


Something's Up With Jack

by Pseudthisyafucks (collettephinz)



Category: Youtube - RPF
Genre: "multiple personalities", Badass Felix, Badass Jack, Blood, F/M, Felix is a protective badass, HE WILL COME BACK I SWEAR, HELLA TEMPORARY, Intrusive Thoughts, Jack is ignorant to what is happening, Loss of Control, M/M, Marzia doesn't exist, Possession, Signe/Jack in the beginning, Temporary Character Death, Violence, again CHARACTER DEATH IS TEMPORARY, attempt at Zalgo, evil evil Anti, i remember when Zalgo was first a thing, i've never written Anti before but i've written monsters so, inspiration from Shadow of the Colossus, my MySpace page was lit, not gore but, there's gonna be some blood, violently (unwitting) self deprecation, you know Anti has a knife and shit and it's a big component to the story so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 55,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/Pseudthisyafucks
Summary: Jack hasn't been feeling very well. He grows more tired by the day, regardless of how long he sleeps. Signe's gone, PJ was barely here, and Robin has suddenly stopped talking to him, though Jack can't really blame Robin after how Jack had talked to him. It isn't like Jack wants to be this way, though. He has these thoughts in his head that are getting louder by the day, and his control of slipping more and more through his fingertips. It isn't like he wants to be this way. It isn't like he wants everyone to leave him.Felix is still here. Felix is too stubborn for Jack to run him away. Felix will know what to do, and Jack will trust Felix to help fix him, because there's no other option. Everything will be fine, he just needs to watch the static a little longer to make sure he doesn't get too angry, and he just needs to hide the knives from sight. Felix will be here in the morning when Jack wakes up. He has to be.





	1. -

**Author's Note:**

> *spins around in chair* Anti gives me legitimate anxiety so this is being written for therapeutic and self-indulgent reasons also i love Shadow of the Colossus and Jack deserves to be a badass
> 
> the F/M thing is to cover the general base of this story starting out with Signe/Jack (though that kinda ends) and then the mentions of other heterosexual relationships. Marzia isn't a thing in this, just assume Felix lives alone with Edgar and that's it. it's a sad world. my baby. 
> 
> uhm also this might be a little more action orientated around the end and calls for some suspension of belief. it's a kinda complex story once you get into the meat of it, but again, it's self-indulgent and therapeutic, so i tried not to get too much legitimate lore in this. ya'll've probably ready Anti stories before, you'd know all of this better than me.
> 
> on that note, cheers, hope it's fun

**Part I**

****It started with a headache.

Just a simple, harmless, little thing. Jack figured it was from the fourth cup of coffee he’d drank this morning, or maybe from staring at his screen for too long. Hell, it could’ve even been that his voice was just as loud as everyone said it was and the volume was starting to get to him. Maybe his brain just hated him. What triggered it hardly mattered to Jack. He had things to do, videos to finish, people to talk to, goals to achieve, and sleep to ignore. The pounding behind his eyes didn’t matter in the face of the length of his to-do list. He’d suffered through worse.

He worked through it, even though the headache was only the beginning. Wintertime was the worst in Western Europe, and there really wasn’t that much of a temperature difference between Ireland and Britain. The cold seeped in through the windows, and heating did very little. So on top of the headache, Jack had cold hands, and weird, random tremors. He could see his breath if he got in the right lighting and blew. Signe had been laughing at his impersonation of being a dragon until she’d realized her own breath wasn’t visible.

“Maybe I’m just hotter than you,” Jack had teased. She’d slapped his arm and gone back to ordering them dinner. 

After the cold and the headache, it ended with an overwhelming nausea. The doubled over the toilet, head between his knees, kind of sick. Signe had wanted to call a doctor after the vomiting had turned into dry heaving. Jack had just wanted to go to bed, but here he was, hunched over in the bathroom. Everything felt weird and detached, like he was touching the world through a pair of surgical gloves melted to his skin. He couldn’t feel anything right, even as he clutched the toilet.

God, he probably looked like a wreck.

Jack ended up laughing halfway through his purge and then Signe really, _really_ wanted to call a doctor now. This was just some sort of hell. “Fucking christ,” he choked out between clenches of his internal organs. “Holy fuck, this sucks.”

“Let me call someone, please,” Signe pleaded. She got pretty frantic when Jack was sick because it was something that happened so rarely. Jack had the immune system of a boss. Him getting sick was a once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing, which meant Signe had no idea how to handle it. And Jack was totally cool with that, because sick-Jack was just a weird ball of dumb dreams and giggle fits after too much cough medicine. It wasn’t the big deal Signe treated it to be.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said between heaved breathes. “I’ll go t’ sleep, wake up fine. It’s just a bug.” It couldn’t be anything worse, after all. Probably just the Indian food Signe had ordered them. He’d puke his guts out, then be fine the next day. It was the JackSepticEye way. 

“Go t’ bed,” he told Signe when he finally got a few moments of relief. “I’ll just take a shower and be back to bed wit’ ye soon’. No worries.”

Signe looked like the opposite of “no worries.” She didn’t want to leave him, and while Jack thought that was just so sweet and so very good of her, he honestly didn’t want her to see him like this for much longer. Sick Jack was also Super-Fucking-Ugly Jack. He got all red in the face and made the weirdest noises without meaning to. He tended to sound like a fool and it was almost a little embarrassing. Even though Signe had been with him for years, it didn’t mean he wanted her to see him like this any more than she needed to. After all, Jack rarely got sick.

“Go t’ bed,” Jack insisted. “I’ll be fine.” She eventually left. His stomach clenched a few more times. He hated the taste of acid, but it was just for tonight. He’d be fine in the morning. 

His stomach calmed down half an hour later and he stood under the hot spray of the shower, trying to warm up. Even in the shower, he could see his breath. Maybe the heating was broken in his house. Maybe he needed to call someone. He forced himself out of the shower and into the cold again. He wanted to just go to bed at this point. Jack would’ve normally stayed up and fucked around on Tumblr or something, but he just felt drowsy and weirdly out of focus. 

He glanced in his reflection. He looked like shit. Jack grimaced as he dried his dark hair. Ever since getting rid of the green, his skin had looked a little paler. He wasn’t about to go back, but it was still taking some time to get used to. Jack dried off his hair and convinced himself to get some sleep. There was no use in forcing himself past his bedtime if he was this sick. He stumbled into his PJs and fell into bed beside Signe. Once his head hit the pillow, he was hit with a grogginess that made it impossible to keep his eyes open.

It started with a headache, and ended with his entire body trying to get something out.

. . .

When he woke up, Signe wasn’t there. That wasn’t entirely abnormal, as she often managed to get up before he did and start the coffee machine, but she didn’t normally leave the bedroom door wide open. It was momentarily unsettling, like the small details you’d see in movies that would lead to the reveal of a monster. He pushed his palms into his eyes and tried to wake up a little better. Early morning wasn’t monster time, Seán. Stop thinking with the horror side of your brain. 

He kicked his feet out over the bed and frowned when he saw his big toe was bleeding and bruised underneath the nail. The fuck? How had that happened? When he lifted his foot and touched the toe lightly to inspect it, he winced in pain. The damn thing felt broken. “Fucking hell,” he grumbled. He wasn’t big on superstition or anything, as his luck was what he made it, but this didn’t exactly seem like a good way to start his day. Jack lifted the covers to make sure he didn’t get blood anywhere. God knew he didn’t want to do any laundry today. And at least he wasn’t still vomiting his stomach out.

Jack stood gingerly on his fucked up foot and limped his way out of the bedroom. Jack’s body felt sore on top of everything, but that was probably the sickness from before. He hobbled downstairs, holding to the railing for balance. He was sure Signe would worry about the way he was acting until she actually saw his toe. Jack was definitely being overdramatic. “Signe!” he called out, ready to horrify her with his gory toe. He heard a clatter in the kitchen, like something had been dropped. 

Jack rounded the wall and saw Signe with her back to the counter, eyes wide and scared. Jack wondered if she’d seen some sort of bug or spider, but then realized he was the thing she was looking at in fear. “Uh, Signe?” he said warily. “Y’okay?”

Signe clutched at her chest before nodding shakily. “You startled me.”

She looked a little beyond that. “Check it out,” Jack said, swinging his foot up onto the counter. It was probably better to just move on. “I fucked up my toe.” He waited for her to freak out about the bruised mess and how he’d put it on the counter, but she only stared at it with that same crazy look. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing,” she replied too quickly. “I had a weird dream.”

Jack watched her move away and around the kitchen. “O-kay, “ he said slowly. “Wanna, like, tell me about it?”

She shook her head. “I’ll make breakfast this morning, if you’re hungry.” That was weird. Signe wasn’t usually this avoidant. She loved talking about the weird dreams she had— Jack’s personal favorite featured a polar bear with a unicorn horn and a shield made of baked goods. Signe had the best dreams. Jack wanted to press, but then she’d probably burn his food in retaliation. 

“Want some help?” he offered instead. “What’cha want?” 

There was a moment of hesitation before she asked him to get the eggs from the fridge, and that was it. The rest of the day was absolutely normal. The heating in the house had probably corrected itself overnight, because Jack wasn’t cold for the rest of the day. He didn’t feel sick, he didn’t get a headache. He ended up getting a shit ton of work done and went to bed that night feeling far more accomplished than he’d been yesterday.

The only thing that was weird was how long it took Signe to come to bed with him. She spent a long time in the bathroom, like she was trying to prolong an inevitable. Jack had to call out to her twice. For once, he was tired and ready to go to bed at a decent hour. It was weird for them to switch roles. 

She came eventually. She lied further away from him than normal. Jack wanted to ask about the dream she’d had, almost needed to, but she obviously didn’t want to tell him, and he would have to respect that. “Wanna watch something?” he offered, wanting to get her mind off of whatever was disturbing her. He only ended up even more concerned when she shook her head. “Signe, are ye’ sure you’re okay?” She’d been distant all day. She couldn’t even look at him.

Jack reached out to put an arm around her shoulder and ignored the way she stiffened. “Whatever happened in the dream,” he told her carefully. “It ain’t real. Yeah?”

“Of course,” she said. But she was looking down the bed to Jack’s toe as she said it. Jack couldn’t understand why she was so shaken by the insignificant injury. He’d probably just stubbed it in the throes of his sickness the other night and hadn’t felt it until today. It wasn’t like Jack was the most graceful person ever. It wasn’t like Jack didn’t tend to hurt himself then and again. 

“Are ye’ gonna be okay?” Jack had to ask that, at least. She was acting far too oddly for him to ignore. 

“I’m fine, Seán,” she told him. She still wasn’t relaxing under his arm. “I’d like to go to bed.” When Jack got up to get the light, Signe stopped him. “Can we keep that on?” She asked. Jack’s worry skyrocketed. “I just kinda need it tonight,” she told him. “I’m sorry.”

“It ain’t no problem,” Jack reassured her, though he was definitely a little nervous now. Signe had trouble falling asleep in anything but perfect darkness. Perhaps she was scared to fall asleep at all? “Need a sleeping mask or something?” He was genuinely ready to pop over to whatever store was open now and grab her a slip for her eyes. But she shook her head. She slid under the covers and turned away from Jack.

“Night, Seán,” she said. “Love you.”

Jack was so fucking worried right now. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fall asleep either. Jack lied down and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to get any sort of rest. He agonized over Signe. What could she have dreamed about? What could she have seen in her head that was fucking with her so badly? The light was so bright. He couldn’t imagine anyone being able to sleep like this over the age of ten. 

Somehow, though, he managed to fall asleep. Even as the tiredness overtook him, Jack was confused by it. Why was he getting so tired so early on? How the fuck was he starting to fall with all of this damn light? Regardless, exhaustion pulled his eyes shut, and he was out cold only seconds later.

. . .

He woke up to the bedroom light off and the door open. 

Signe was gone again.

The uneasiness curling in his gut wasn’t something Jack enjoyed waking up with. He lifted the covers to check his toe, and found a huge bruise along his leg in addition. He didn’t remember knocking his leg. Was he moving around in his sleep? Was that why Signe was leaving bed so early? What if he’d accidentally hurt her?

The thought got Jack out of bed in more of a rush than he should have. His head swam from going from horizontal to vertical so quickly. He nearly fell over before bounding down the stairs, a little desperate to find Signe. She wasn’t in the kitchen as she’d been yesterday, nor was she in the living room. Jack searched desperately until he heard a sound from upstairs. 

“Signe!” he called out, a little frantic now. He ran back upstairs, ignoring the flare of pain in his leg. He saw a light underneath the bathroom door and cursed himself for not checking there first. “Signe, hey.” He knocked on the door, then rattled the knob. Why the fuck was it locked? “Signe?”

“I’m fine.”

Holy shit, she sounded the furthest thing from fine. She sounded like she’d been crying. “Signe, baby, open the door,” Jack insisted, struggling to keep calm. 

“Who’s talking?” Signe asked, to Jack’s blatant confusion. Who else could it have been?

“What happened?” he asked, deciding not to take “nothing” for an answer at this point. Signe obviously wasn’t fine. “Did someone come into the house?” Had they been fucking robbed? Nothing seemed to be missing. Jack wished she would open the door and tried the knob again. “Signe, c’mon,” he begged. “Just let me—”

He cut himself off when the door was opened. Instantly, his eyes scanned Signe, looking for any bruises or injuries. He didn’t see anything other than a redness in her eyes, but that was still alarming. Jack sighed in relief regardless, so happy she didn’t seem hurt. He reached out and pulled her into a tight hug. She remained stiff in his arms and didn’t return it. “The fuck happened?” he asked. “Did ye’ have another dream?” He looked around the bathroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe she’d just been getting ready and had gotten mascara in her eyes or something harmless. 

“Sure,” she said. “I’m trying to get ready.” Signe pulled away from him. Jack felt this sudden urge to sneer and force her back. “Can I get some peace please?” There was something hostile in her tone, but it didn’t register in Jack’s brain like she was angry with him. She was upset with something, but it wasn’t Jack. 

Jack struggled for some way to lift her mood. “Wanna see a movie today?” he suggested. “Maybe get a nice lunch or dinner? We could go t’ the beach.”

Her expression was wary. She stood by the sink, her hand hovering close to something on the counter. Jack’s brain stilted when he saw it was a kitchen knife. “What… Why do ye’ have that?”

“I thought there was someone in the house,” Signe said, confirming Jack’s earlier suspicion. “I was wrong. Forgot to put it away.” That didn’t explain why she still looked ready to reach for it, though. Jack suddenly didn’t want a legitimate answer. “A movie sounds fine,” she said. “We could ask some friends if they want to come along.”

Jack just shrugged. He’d intended for it to be just them, but if Signe wanted to see friends, then they’d see friends. “Name the title, we’ll get it done.” He could afford to set himself a little behind schedule for her. “Finish getting ready, yeah? Who do ye’ want t’ see?”

Signe bit her lip. “I’d like to see Felix, please.”

Hardly a surprise. Signe and Felix got along surprisingly well, and Felix always made this weird effort to make Signe laugh as much as possible at the stupidest things. Probably because Felix had this weird obsession with making sure everyone around him had fun at every possible moment, especially people like Signe. With Signe acting so oddly, it made sense she’d want Felix around. “What do ye’ wanna see?”

“Something,” she said vaguely. “Anything.” God, what an annoyance. It was one thing for Jack to already be bending over backwards to make her stop acting like such a child, but to have her refuse to even give him a suggestion was another. No, that was wrong. Signe had a hard time communicating her desires. It wasn’t entirely her fault. 

Jack nodded. “Jumanji it is.” She laughed the tiniest bit and shook her head. Jack’s obsession with The Rock was probably the most wholesome thing about him, and they’d already seen this movie three times. It was barely funny anymore; Jack just really liked The Rock. “I’ll hit Felix up and see what time he can swing,” he assured her softly. “Take however much ye’ need, yeah?” Signe nodded and ducked her head. For a moment, Jack thought he saw something dark on the back of her neck. Before he could ask, Signe was looking at him again and nodding to the door.

Jack took his cue and ducked out, letting her shut the door firmly behind him. Maybe she just needed to feel safe. Thinking someone had broken into the house had to be harrowing, though he was still going to insist she not use a fucking knife of all things. Jack would find a baseball bat somewhere and keep it by their bed for her. 

He pulled out his phone, quickly dialing Felix. “Hey,” he greeted upon Felix’s always-timely answer. “Wanna see Jumanji again?”

. . .

“If I have to watch Kevin Hart blow up from eating cake one more time, I will kill myself,” Felix said as they left the theatre. “I think you’ve got a couple wires crossed in there, Seán.”

“You were hyperventilating again,” Signe teased. Jack didn’t really have much to say to either of them. Even though he’d had his usual giggle fits in that movie, the entire thing had felt off to him. Signe had insisted on Felix sitting between the two of them. She’d bought a separate popcorn and hadn’t even leaned over Felix to crack jokes with Jack like she normally would have throughout the movie, but she would also watch Felix like she was tracking every move he made around Jack. So yeah, Jack had enjoyed the film same as always, but only as an afterthought. It wasn’t like he minded sitting next to Felix, but have the Swede between him and his girl? It just felt a little tilted, especially with how Signe had been acting about it.

“I have an idea for a video for you, dude,” Felix was saying, looking to his phone. He was finding a place for them to grab a quick meal. “List of All the Men I’d Go Gay For and Why.” Jack rolled his eyes while Felix looked immensely proud of himself. “You’d easily hit the ten minute mark. Speaking of, Mark would be number two on the list.”

“And who’s number one?” Jack asked dryly, already knowing the answer. When Felix made a stupid noise and pointed at himself, Jack suffered an inward struggle on whether or not he should dump the last of his popcorn over Felix’s head. “You’re a fuckin’ dumbass, Fe’.”

“Ey, we all know what that means!” Felix nudged Signe playfully. “Looks like you’ve got some competition there, boy!”

“She ain’t a boy,” Jack griped.

“She could be if she wants,” Felix said. “Don’t assume her gender.”

“Don’t assume my gender,” Signe giggled. Jack wanted to dump popcorn on the both of them. “And I have to agree, Seán, we have seen an awful lot of Kevin Hart dying. Maybe next time we should see Star Wars again?” Felix made an over-exaggeration of gagging. Signe giggled again. “Or something else? What about Thor again? Or Disaster Artist?”

Before Felix could excitedly support her suggestion, Jack beat him to it. “If I have to see Felix pop another boner for Tommy Wiseau, I’ll get him to make the 'Men I’d Go gay For' video. It’s fuckin’ obscene.”

“And you’d be my number one, Jack-a-boy,” Felix cooed, making kissy lips at him. Jack was tempted to shove Felix off the curb, but traffic was pretty bad. He could die or something. God forbid. Jack settled with pinching Felix’s side hard enough to hurt and smirked when Felix let out a shriek. Signe watched their antics with an unreadable expression.“Fuck you, Jack!” Felix shouted, though he was laughing as he did. “I’m not buying you food anymore!”

“Ye’ weren’t gonna in the first place.”

“Fuck off, maybe I was.” Felix looked back to his phone. “We’re going to K-F-C, by the way. I feel like making some terrible decisions. This is the safest one.” He pointed in random directions around them before settling south. “That way.”

“Didn’t yer ancestors cross oceans?” Jack asked. “Why is your sense of direction such garbage?”

“Shut up.” Felix took Signe by the arm. Jack suddenly realized Felix was still between them, and it was intentional on Signe’s part. That sense of uneasiness returned, unbidden and upsetting. She was avoiding him. She didn’t want to touch him. Was it because she didn’t want Jack or she wanted Felix? She kept staring at him enough. Except the idea of Signe considering a relationship with Felix was just absurd, even if Felix was the one to always try to make her laugh, and make sure she was having fun, and make sure she ate, and make sure she was comfortable, and…

Jack suddenly couldn’t look away from the two of them. Was something going on? Out of everyone, Jack couldn’t imagine Signe cheating on him, and he couldn’t imagine Felix helping Signe cheat. The two people beside him were two of the people he trusted most. He felt like it was more likely for Signe to cheat with a girl than with Felix-- if Signe was even likely to cheat at all (which she wasn’t). Jack was being paranoid. He’d been thrown off by the last two nights. Everything was fine.

He glanced to Signe and Felix again and felt like laughing at himself. That moment of weakness had been hilarious in immediate retrospect. Signe would never cheat, and Felix would never do that to him. He just needed rest, even though he’d been getting more sleep in the past two nights than he’d gotten in two years. Maybe he was suffering from too much sleep. Was that a thing? It had to be. Nothing else would explain that stupid intrusive thought. Jack trusted Signe and Felix. There had been no reason for his mind to accuse them of such a thing.

Jack turned his head to the ground, momentarily ashamed with himself. Such a cruel thing to think. Such a cruel thing to think about such precious people. How could he ever do that? How could he twist them into such a light? He was such a piece of shit, a piece of garbage, a fucking waste. He would be better off letting Signe and Felix do fuck all with each other and leave him behind in the dust. He was a fucking mistake.

Wait, what?

Jack looked over his shoulder. He thought he’d heard someone whispering that to him, but no one was there. Signe was laughing at some lame joke Felix had made, and that was the only human sound surrounding. He had no idea where that had come from.

“Seán, you ready for some Kentucky fried?” Felix asked him. Jack stared at him for a long moment, trying to get his brain to catch up. He could still hear that whisper telling him he was worthless. 

“What?” he asked, needing to hear Felix again. The Swede looked a little perturbed, but obliged.

“Are you hungry?” Felix asked him, turning his full attention to Jack. 

“Fuck yeah,” Jack replied, more ready to respond this time. He mentally shook off the uneasiness the whispering had bought and focused on his friend and girlfriend like they deserved. “Gonna get all messy and shite. Haven’t had greasy food in about a week.” Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to eat shitty food so soon after having a stomach bug, but Jack couldn’t be bothered. 

“You okay, dude?” Felix asked.

“Fucking golden,” Jack replied easily enough. They got to the KFC, a shitty little thing with dirty windows and cigarette butts in the parking lot. Felix opened the door for Jack and Signe with a dramatic flourish and a bow. Signe curtsied on her way past Felix, and as Jack passed Felix, Felix slapped his ass. “Fuck off!” Jack whined. “I’m gonna go wash me hands. Got butter on ‘em, don’t wanna add t’ the grease.”

He ducked away before Felix could say anything else and locked the bathroom door behind him. He stopped in front of the sink and briskly started to clean his hands. There really was a shit ton of butter making his fingers all oily. Felix loved his grotesquely buttered popcorn, if you could even call the shit they used in theatres “butter.” He used a copious amount of hand soap and wasn’t satisfied until his fingertips were scrubbed red. 

He had to get clean, after all. He wouldn’t want to touch anyone and stain them. They already had to put up with his shitty company and his shitty excuses for conversation. He wouldn’t want to make his presence anymore arduous to bear. Signe was already standing ten feet away, hanging off of Felix every chance she got. Stupid fucking slut, she was such a—

Jack stumbled away from the sink when soap got into his eyes. He turned around quickly to find the voice that had been whispering such horrifying things, but there was no one in the bathroom with him. Jack’s chest heaved as he breathed. He felt disorientated. Something was wrong. 

It had to be the sleep. He would just pull an all-nighter tonight and get his thoughts back to normal. Signe was the best damn thing to ever happen to him. She would never cheat on him. Felix would never help her cheat. Jack needed to get ahold of himself before he said accidentally something he didn’t mean.

Jack left the bathroom, glanced to the menu, then looked around to see where Felix and Signe where. They were sitting in a booth in the back, and Jack meant to approach them until he saw the solemn look on Signe’s face. She was whispering to Felix, gesturing animatedly on the table with her hands. Felix was hunched forward with a disbelieving expression as Signe told him whatever she was saying. Jack was about to chide himself for snooping in on their conversation when Felix reached across the table and lied his hands atop Signe’s.

Jack stared. 

Signe would never cheat on him.

Felix would never help her cheat.

What he was seeing was obviously something he couldn’t understand without knowing the conversation being shared. If he’d been meant to know, Signe would’ve talked to Felix with her there. Even better, if he approached now, she would catch him up and then continue. But when Jack walked innocently up to the booth, Signe froze and fell instantly silent. She looked guilty; there was no other way to describe her expression. Jack suddenly felt unwelcome with his own girlfriend. He felt something close to relief when Felix turned to see him and actually smiled.

“I got us a shit ton of chicken,” Felix told him, scooting over and patting the empty spot beside him. Signe looked to Felix with sharp eyes before the expression left her. Jack wasn’t sure he’d even seen it. “Also potato wedges, because those are way better than mashed potatoes. Mashed potatoes here are basically mush and salt. Disgusting.”

“Disgusting!” Signe echoed, putting effort into acting like nothing was wrong. Jack just sat down, shoulders slumped in defeat. He didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t going to jump to any conclusions, though. He was just going to wallow in how shitty it felt to be excluded. “You okay, Seán?” Signe asked. Jack almost said something mean, because how could he be okay when she was keeping secrets from him with his best friend? Harlot.

God, that whisper. Jack would make a pot of coffee when he got home just to ensure he didn’t get any sleep. “I’m fine,” he said. He reached out under his table to tap his leg to hers, wanting some sort of contact to reassure him that he wasn’t being paranoid. But she pulled away. Jack frowned. “Something wrong, Signe?”

She didn’t meet his eyes at first. “I’m just feeling a little sick,” she told him. “You know when you’ve got a cold and your whole body aches?”

Felix winced in sympathy. “I hate that.”

“Why didn’t ye’ tell me you were sick?” Jack asked. “I would’ve kept ye’ indoors and watched a movie that way with soup rather than greasy chicken.” Jack would’ve taken care of her, and she knew that. She was lying.

“Sorry,” she said, letting her hair fall in front of her face. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“I was just sick me-self,” Jack reminded her. “I kinda owe ye’.” Maybe he was pressing too much, but he just wanted to hear the truth. Why was she avoiding him so fervently? It was starting to hurt. “You sure that’s all?” He probably would’ve appealed to her more emotionally if Felix weren’t next to him. Felix’s thigh pressed against his was an unpleasant reminder of what he’d seen just moments before. Maybe Signe wouldn’t cheat, but Felix might help. Maybe Felix was the person Jack should look out for. Jack pulled his body away from Felix’s as nonchalantly as he could. 

A number was called up front. “That’s us,” Felix said, none the wiser to Jack’s sudden change in demeanor. Felix braced himself with one hand on the table and the other on the back of the booth bench to lift himself up and over Jack’s lap. He landed a little loudly and his knees almost buckled. Felix laughed at his own antics as he corrected himself before bounding up to the front counter, proudly slapping down his receipt and collecting their food while asking for a large variety of dipping sauces.

At the booth, Jack watched Signe. She was staring at Felix like she was Jesus watching Judas from across the table. “What’s going on?” he asked firmly.

“Nothing,” she replied just as firmly. 

“Ye’ won’t talk to me. Won’t touch me. Won’t even stand or sit next t’ me. Something’s up.”

She cast her eyes down. “I told you. I feel sick and I’ve been having weird dreams.”

“Well, I noticed that.” It didn’t tell him a damn thing about why she was physically avoiding him. And it wasn’t like Jack was asking for anything strenuous. What could be taxing about simply sitting beside him during a movie? “Wanna tell me what else is there?”

“There’s nothing, Seán,” she insisted. She kept glancing past Jack to Felix, like she was waiting for him to come back. Anger flared in Jack’s chest alongside that hateful paranoia, but he tampered it down by clenching his hand into a tight fist. 

“Fine,” he bit out just as Felix came back to the booth with a tray of hot, fried chicken. Jack slid down so his side was to the wall to give Felix room as Felix happily divvied out the food for all of them. Spitefully, Jack didn’t even bring up that Felix had been the one to buy their meal, let alone thank him. Felix acted like everything was fine. He still sat down next to Jack and he still talked to Signe like he hadn’t been conspiring with her or whatever. Jack stared at his food and didn’t want to eat it because Felix bought it.

Jesus christ, what the fuck was wrong with him?

“Fuck, I’m tired,” Jack sighed, mostly to himself.

“Are you sure?” Felix asked. “Signe said you’ve been sleeping a lot more lately. Like, weirdly so.” A small part of Jack hoped that that had been all Signe had told Felix in the booth. A larger part was skeptical. “Think you’re coming down with something too?”

“I already had me turn,” Jack said. “I was sick just a few nights ago, and now Signe has it, apparently. I was super fucking sick and everything, vomiting into the toilet and all that nasty shit that ain’t good for mealtime.” He scrunched up his nose. “I can’t be sick again. Ain’t there a refractory period or something?”

“Pretty sure the world doesn’t have a refractory period on fucking you in the ass,” Felix replied. “If both of you are sick, I totally don’t mind being your nurse. I’ve got a sexy costume lying around somewhere, and I can tell you, with confidence, that my bedside manner is on point.” Felix gave Jack a flirtatious wink. “I know how to use a rectal thermometer like the best of them. You guys can trust me for the job.”

“I think we’re good,” Jack said, but Signe suddenly perked up.

“Maybe Felix should stay over,” she said. “If Jack is getting sick again, and I’m already like this, it would be smart to have him stay with the two of us. If I get any worse and you get bad again, then who’s gonna help us when we can’t get out of bed?”

Jack paused. He had to force himself to think rationally, because his brain was only capable of being cruel. “Maybe,” he said, not wanting to sign up for anything, but also not wanting to make Signe even more upset with him. “We can talk more about it tomorrow. Felix is an adult, though, he can’t just pack up and play doctor. And we ain’t that sick yet.”

“But we could—”

“Just let me know,” Felix said, interrupting Signe. “I totally don’t mind helping you guys out. I’m the one who made you guys move away from family and shit, after all, and I really wouldn’t mind. My house is super empty, you know? Even with Edgar.” Felix shrugged. “I’m not saying I’m lonely, but I wouldn’t mind getting to spend more than a few hours at a time with you guys.”

Jack wondered if Felix was purposefully appealing to Jack’s caring nature. He hated the idea of anyone feeling lonely. Felix knew how to play the game. “We’ll talk about it,” Jack said, now even more unable to give Felix a definite no, despite seeing how he was being manipulative. “Wouldn’t want to pass anything onto ye’.”

“I probably already have it by now,” Felix said with a cheeky grin and another one of those stupid winks. “You’re toxic, baby. I’m going under.”

“It’s Britney, bitch,” Jack grumbled, shaking his head before finally starting to eat. “Thanks for the food, Fe’. Ye’ only did it to spite me, so an extra fuck you on the side of thanks.” He tore into a drumstick, taking care to only look at what was in front of him. He didn’t want to make Signe upset or anything with eye contact. Felix laughed and threw something at Jack, shouting something in Swedish that Signe laughed at. Jack kept his head down. He didn’t want to say anything awful.

“I think I wanna go home,” he told the other two after a while. “I, uh. I am feeling off.” He glanced to Felix, certain that he had noticed. There was no question in that Signe knew already. He was really just stating the obvious. “Sorry, Fe’,” he said, feeling genuinely regretful. Maybe Felix said he wasn’t lonely, but Jack didn’t believe much of it. “I just, I really would like to avoid gettin’ worse.”

“No, I get it,” Felix said, waving Jack off. “You’ve got shit today. I already took up so much of your time with the movie.”

“Bitch, it was our idea t’ see the fuckin’ movie.” Jack shook his head. “Don’t be a fuck about it. We wanted to be with ye’. I’m sorry that I’m cuttin’ it short, but it ain’t you, yeah? Stop being such a martyr about it.”

Felix grinned at him, obviously pleased to hear he wasn’t any sort of hinderance. “Let me know if you guys change your mind on the nurse Kjellberg thing. I’ll be here.”

“I’m sure ye’ will.” Jack nodded to Signe. “Ye’ ready?”

Signe looked like the last thing she wanted to do was leave. She looked between Felix and Jack like she wanted to ask for help. Jack fought not to bristle with offense. He was getting tired of the things she was hiding from him. “Of course, if ye’d rather just hang out with Felix for the rest of the night, be my guest.” Jack nudged Felix gently, signaling that he wanted out of the booth. Felix looked confused, but did as requested. He kept watching Signe for some sort of clue as Jack made to leave the restaurant. Jack was sure Signe would stay behind if given the chance, so he’d give it to her.

“Uh, Seán?”

Jack ignored Felix and kept walking. He was surprised when he heard footsteps just behind himself. Jack didn’t turn around until he was out and on the street. He only glanced at Signe and slowed his pace a little.

“I’m sorry,” Signe said as she caught up. “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jack said stiffly. 

“You’re acting weird, Seán.”

“And you’re not?” Jack shook his head. “You’ve been acting like a fucking psy—” Jack quickly cut himself off and shut his eyes to try and re-center his head. He didn’t mean any of that shit. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “You’re right. I have been actin’ off. But so have you. At least I’ll own up to it. At least I don’t fucking lie.”

Signe looked away. They quietly walked back to the parking lot, both of them too stubborn to be the one to breach the silence and admit fault. Jack knew how he was going to fix his problem, but Signe didn’t show any signs of improving. She just wanted to keep treating him like—

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jack hissed, needing the sound to stop his head. When Signe jumped, he shook his head. “Not you,” he told her. “I just, I’m having an off day. Thoughts in my head that I don’t agree with. It’s weird.” He shook his head again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take any of it out on ye’, and I don’t mean to be making you upset. Don’t even try to tell me I ain’t upsetting you, cause I’m not dumb. Ye’ won’t even hold my hand. Something’s up. I just wish I knew what it was so I could fix it.”

“I don’t think you can.”

Jack stopped walking and turned to look at her, trying to understand what that meant. Not only was she keeping secrets, she was only keeping them from him. Felix knew more than he did at this point, Jack was certain of that. It was starting to look like he would have to go over Signe’s head for any legitimate truth. If Felix was even on his side, that was. 

“What do you mean I can’t?” he asked carefully. “Because it’s obviously me. Not like we live with anyone else. Not like we see anyone else often enough. Ye’ really think I don’t know that it’s about me? "

“What if it’s from YouTube?” Signe asked, but Jack could tell she was trying to derail Jack’s train of thought. “People are mean. Maybe they’re being worse than usual.”

“You would tell me if they were.” She always had.

“Drop it, Seán,” she said. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Everything is fine.” Signe literally stomped past him, exaggerating her childishness to distract Jack. She’d always been like that. She always tried to downplay certain things by overdoing the rest. Jack knew everything was not fine. What a fucking bitch. 

“She’s not a bitch,” Jack said to himself under his breath. Then he followed her back to their car. 

The drive home was filled with only a tense silence. 

. . .

Jack was miserable by four AM, on his fourth cup of coffee, and lamenting the fact that caffeine didn’t actually do all that much for him. He wished there was somewhere nearby that was open so he could buy an armload of energy drinks. At this rate, he would be out like a light by five, but he couldn’t let that happen. His thoughts were just so angry all of the time. He almost wanted to try that meditating thing Mark said he did just to get everything under control, because forcing himself to stay awake wasn’t helping. 

Jack squinted at his screen, blinded by the artificial light. The rest of his house was dark and cold. He was sure Signe was happily asleep, especially without him beside her. Bitterness crept into his heart, so he quickly opened a new tab. The movie he had been watching obviously wasn’t an ample distraction from the thoughts. He browsed through his history, trying to find something that would keep him occupied. A ping sounded on the desktop to his left, in Discord. Someone was online. He glanced to the time again and tried to figure out who it could be. 

Robin’s name lit up with a Discord Video Chat request. Fuck. Jack didn’t know how well he’d be able to watch his tongue. Wasn’t Robin up early? Late? Something? Ignoring the call might end up being worse than anything he could say. Fuck. Jack didn’t know what to do. 

He rubbed his face with his hands almost violently before answering the call. Robin greeted him cheerfully, his attention not even on the camera or Jack’s image. Jack quickly got up and shut off the light in his recording room just to ensure that Robin didn’t see the extent of how terrible he looked. 

 _“Hallå!”_ Robin exclaimed oh-so cheerfully. Jack grimaced. He didn’t know why, but the pitch of Robin’s voice grated on his ears. He regretted receiving the call.

“Hey, Rob,” he said anyways, unable to even dredge of the willpower to say Robin’s full name. Sleep pulled at his eyelids like they had weights attached. “I, uh. What’s up?”

 _“Not much,”_ Robin said. _“Just going over what you sent me. Do you think a rave animation is too much for this game? It’s definitely not a serious play-through, but I’m always worried about overdoing it.”_

Fucking Robin and his stupid—

“Do whatever ye’ think is best,” Jack said, ignoring himself. Just a few more hours and he’d be fixed. _“_ I pay ye’ for a reason.” Shit, that came out a little harsh. “I trust ye’ t’ know what’s good. It’s why I go to you and no one else.” That was a little better. “Ye’ve got this.”

 _Robin nodded and clicked around on his end for a bit._ “Are you feeling okay?”

Jack resisted the urge to groan. “Did someone say something?”

_“Signe’s been worried, dude.”_

“I’ve been sleeping weird, that’s all.” Jack grimaced, wishing he could hang up. This wasn’t the distraction he needed. “Everyone’s been actin’ all weird about it. Signe won’t talk to me, but she’ll fucking spill it all to Felix. I’d almost think something was going on there if I didn’t know any better.” 

 _“Dude, really?”_ Robin laughed. _“You think Signe is cheating on you? Signe. The Signe. With Felix._ ** _Felix._** _”_ Robin shook his head, acting like he knew something about Felix that Jack didn’t already know. _“You’re right, you must be sleeping weird. No way would you be this dumb._ ” Robin giggled and turned his attention, finally, to Jack. His expression stuttered when he saw Jack’s face. _“Holy crap, dude. Are you okay?”_

Jack leveled him with a flat stare. “Ye’ve already asked me that.”

 _“I know, I know, just… you look bad. Almost ghostly.”_ Robin looked genuinely concerned. _“Are you sick? Signe mentioned you being sick before. Is it back? Maybe you should take a break from stuff. You could be getting stressed out and stuff again. I’m sure the viewers would understand.”_

“I said I’m fine, Robin.”

Robin sat back in his seat a little. Maybe Jack’s voice had been a little too flat.“ _Are you upset with me?”_

Jack sighed heavily, then shook his head. “No. I’m not.” He didn’t think he was. Not yet. “I’m tellin’ ye’, bad sleep and Signe being weird. It’s just all a little off, but that’s all it is. I know I’ll be fine soon. Just, just gotta fix the sleep.”

_“Should I let you go?”_

“Do what ye’ want.” Jack stared aimlessly at his desktop. “I’m staying awake. I can’t keep thinking these things. Don’t feel like me-self anymore. I just want to be me again, and only that.” On-screen, Robin looked freaked out. 

Jack had officially said too much. He wasn’t allowed to be like this, everyone knew that. JackSepticEye wasn’t allowed moments of weakness or the occasional fucking awful day/week/month. God forbid he let himself to be anything but the perfect, happy little fuck everyone expects him to be. What a fucking waste. What a fucking stain on the earth. Jack wasn’t worth their time. 

Jack hung his head in his hands. The thoughts were bad to begin with, but when they were about himself, they became infinitely more damaging. He wasn’t normally like this. Jack had his bad moments, he had his self-deprecation, but he was always able to pull himself out of it with the help of some friends. But Robin wasn’t helping. Signe wouldn’t want to help. He couldn’t think of anyone else that would actually be able to bring him back in and stop these thoughts. 

Jack lifted his head. “Sorry,” he murmured, unable to dredge up any more energy. “Bad sleep. Robin, I’m sorry.”

 _“It’s okay,”_ Robin assured him. _“I’m just a little worried now, I guess.”_

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

_“Should I get Signe?”_

“It’s late. I wouldn’t want to bother her. I’m just, I’m acting weird. Weird head stuff. I’m tellin’ ye’, it’s the sleep, I’ve been sleeping too much. It’s why I’m making myself stay awake. So I fix it.”

_“I, I don’t think that is how sleep works.”_

“Please don’t criticize what is literally the only way I can think of to repair this. Signe won’t fuckin’ look at me, Robin, I’ve got t’ try something.” He looked to his friend, then turned his face fully to the camera so Robin could see the extent of the problem. “I’m exhausted when I’ve slept more in the past few days than I have in years. It’s the only thing I can think of that’s different.”

_“Have you ever thought you could just be having an off week?”_

“At the same time Signe’s started treating me like a stranger? Hardly. Everything was fine, then it all just changed overnight.”

_“Maybe you said something to her in her sleep?”_

“That’s ridiculous, Robin.”

 _“No, I’m serious,”_ Robin insisted. _“Maybe you, like, confessed your undying love to some person in your dream. Maybe you had a dream about Chris Pratt or something, or maybe you said something insulting meant for someone else and she took it for herself? Maybe, maybe it’s as simple as that. You said she was speaking with Felix? Maybe you said something about Felix that got to her.”_ Robin giggled, but he seemed a little nervous. _“Maybe you confessed your love to Felix! That would definitely get to her.”_

Jack rolled his eyes. Signe would know that something like that would be a new brand of joke. “Don’t be stupid, Robin.”

_“You know, you called me Rob when you first answer the call. It was super weird.”_

“Which is it, then?” Jack asked, getting a little annoyed. He didn’t mean to be, he couldn’t help him. “Did I confess my love for Felix or did I call her Sig or something dumb like I did with you?”

Robin shrugged. _“I don’t know. Why don’t you talk to her?”_

“Haven’t ye’ been listening? _I’m trying to talk to her,_ but she just feeds me some bullshit about how nothing’s wrong and then keeps on with acting like a freak! I don’t know what to do because it’s almost like she doesn’t want me to be able to fix it! She just wants me to fucking suffer.”

Robin frowned. _“Uh, are you mad at her?”_

Why the hell wouldn’t he be? “I’m frustrated,” Jack said slowly, keeping his cool. “Because she’s playing games with me and I can’t force her to do anything, so she just continues to hate and avoid me without giving me a chance to correct anything. It ain’t fair. I genuinely do not know what I have done, so there’s nothing I can do, and she just sits there, in her high fucking tower, lording it over my head and expect me to do whatever the fuck she wants to make up some mystery problem to her.”

_“Wow, Seán, tell me how you really feel.”_

“Fuck off.”

Robin’s brow flew up. _“Are you sure you’re not mad at me too? You don’t usually talk like this.”_

That was it. “Goodbye, Robin,” Jack snapped, ending the call. He wasn’t going to put up with people acting like he was in the wrong any longer. Why couldn’t they just be concerned for him instead of worrying about their own standing? Why the fuck did any of that shit matter? Robin should’ve been trying to help him figure out the shit with Signe, not obsessing with who Jack could’ve been angry at and why. Fuck. _Fuck._

He was angry. It sat in his chest and left a bad taste in his mouth. He hated feeling this way. He hated feeling like he needed to hurt someone or destroy something to feel better. Jack twisted his fingers together. He was so very tired and so very angry. He’d never felt both of those things in succession and he didn’t know what to do with it. Something niggled in the back of his mind, telling him sleep would push the anger away. But wasn’t he angry because of the sleep? He didn’t know why, but he instinctually felt like sleep was something he should be avoid. And yet, he was so fucking angry…

Robin’s name came up on the screen. He was trying to call again. Jack signed out of Discord, then shut down his computer completely. He wasn’t going to find any sort of relief, he knew that now. 

Jack left his room and wandered the house. He wanted to hit something, but practicing his drums was out of the question. He wished he did something destructive out of habit, like boxing or karate or something that was simultaneously zen. He had nothing like that in his house. He wished he was back home, where he knew all of the bars that would be open this late/early. He wished he could just wander off into the night and walk in nature and kick a tree, but it was only houses for miles here. _Fuck._

Jack dropped onto the couch, upset with his inability to find something that would help him cope and stay awake. He was going to lose his mind like this. Jack turned on the TV, but didn’t watch what was playing. The show blended together into a mix of light and color and sound. He felt drowsy. His heartbeat began to slow. His eyes were too heavy. 

Jack fell asleep on the couch in a matter of seconds.

. . .

He woke up in bed.

Disorientated by an event that hadn’t happened since he was a little kid, Jack struggled to lift his head. His body ached wth soreness like he’d ran a marathon the day before. The bed was cold, like no one had been lying in it until very recently. The room was cold too. The heat was on the fritz again, and Signe was gone. 

Jack sighed. This was an awful way to start his day. Nothing was fixed and he’d fallen asleep, which was the opposite of what he’d wanted. Jack wondered how he’d gotten into bed. It wasn’t like Signe could carry him. It wasn’t like there would be anyone else around. Unless…

Felix’s name slid into his mind like a curse. He refused to let it come to the forefront of his thoughts. Signe wouldn’t do that to him. Jack got out of bed and went to find her, ready to face yet another day of her hiding everything from him. He called out her name and wasn’t surprised when he was met with no response. What did surprise him was when he glanced to the opened closet door to see a good amount of her clothes were gone. Jack frowned. “Signe?” he called out again. “Where are ye’?” He checked the hallway closet and saw her suitcase was gone. Something ugly sunk into Jack’s stomach. Where was she?

He found his answer downstairs. She was sitting at the dining table, her suitcase beside her, on her phone. Signe looked up at him with something like fear. “Jack?” she asked, like she wasn’t sure who he was. This was absurd. 

“Where ye’ going?” he asked, keeping his voice even. 

“I, I’m seeing my parents.” She looked away nervously. “I just— I’m not doing well. I’ve been having dreams.”

Jack breathed in deeply to keep himself from shouting. “Just… just tell me the dreams. Please.”

“It’s insane,” she almost whispered. She couldn’t look at him. Jack wondered how it could have gotten this bad so quickly. She was acting like she was being abused by him in her sleep. For a horrifying moment, the idea of that made a lot more sense than he liked. “I can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You’re already acting like it,” he huffed.

“And you’re acting so differently,” she said. “The, the way you look at people. The way you look like you hate them. And your temper is so short. You’ll just say things, little things, but they’re really big when they come from you. I, I know you and I have had our fights before, Seán, but even then, you never acted like you do now. I’m so worried for you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Jack crossed his arms defensively over his chest. She was right, though. There was something newly uncontrollable about his temper. But that was no reason for her to leave. “So, what? Things get rough, I get a little angry, and you’re suddenly out? Running away t’ yer family, and that’s that. You’re just gonna quit.”

“I don’t know if it’s you I’m running from or not.”

Jack scowled. “Bullshit,” he snapped, finally saying it. “You’re a bunch of bullshit. I’m not a fucking toy you can sling around and lie to!” The analogy made no sense, but the anger was building again. It made him feel sick. “Ye’ think you can just keep all of this shit from me and then run away like I’ll just let it happen. How do I know you’ll ever even come back? Who the fuck gave you this idea? Was it Felix?” For a moment, he saw green. Signe flinched at the name. “It was, wasn’t it?” he asked in a low voice as understanding washed over him. “Is he going with you?”

“No, Seán, please don’t misunderstand,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “He’s worried about you. So is Robin. So is everyone.”

Jack threw his hands into the air. “So, what? Ye’ve been telling everyone who’ll listen what’s wrong except for me? Yer actual fucking boyfriend? Jesus christ, are you just sleeping with Felix or is it everyone?”

Signe reared back like she’d been slapped. Immediately, Jack knew he’d crossed a line. The words barely felt like his. “I’m sorry,” he said before she could start crying. The tears were already there. “I, I didn’t mean that. Ye’ had to have known how it would look. But that ain’t an excuse. I’m sorry. 

“This is what I’m talking about,” Signe told him, blinking furiously to get rid of the tears. “You’re not acting like yourself and we’re all really worried.”

“Still seems like bullshit that ye’d go to Felix of all people.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t. He asked.”

“What?”

“Before the movie. I don’t know, Seán. He just, he took one look at you and then texted me the question. Don’t you see? There is something definitely wrong, and it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

“You’re the one trying t’ fucking leave.”

She hung her head for a moment. “… Seán, I-I’m doing this for my own safety. I’m so sorry that you don’t understand.” How was Jack able to understand something that hadn’t ever been explained to him? “I hope you will forgive me one day. I do intend on coming back, I just— I need to clear my head. Please don’t be angry with me.”

Literally impossible. Jack glared at the wall, refusing to make this easy for her. “If ye’ think something’s so wrong with me, why’re ye’ just gonna leave me alone? Hoping I’ll just die or something while you’re away? It ain’t yer fault if ye’ couldn’t be here to help it.”

“Seán, please—”

“Just go,” he interrupted. “Fucking go.”

“Seán—”

“What d’ye’ want, a kiss goodbye? Get the fuck out."

She hunched her shoulders like she was trying to make herself as small as possible. Signe’s eyes flitted to the door like she wanted to do as he said more than anything. She was legitimately running away from him, but trying to be nice about it. Jack was struck with an overwhelming desire to hit someone, to hit her. The thought alarmed him. He clenched his hands into fists and refused. “Go, Signe,” he repeated a little softer. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve been talking to PJ, too,” she said. “He, he’s going to come over. He said he’ll bring dinner or something.”

“Ye’ want them keeping tabs on me.” Jack nodded. He understood that, at least. “Whatever. Surprised it isn’t Felix.”

“I-I didn’t want him here.”

“What the fuck, Signe,” Jack sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t get ye’. Going to Felix, then denying him. It doesn’t make any fucking sense. You don’t make any sense.”

“Felix isn’t like PJ,” was all Signe said. Her phone chimed. “I, my cab is here. I’m leaving.” She stood and lifted her suitcase. Jack wanted to offer his help, but he had a distinct feeling that he would be firmly denied. “Goodbye, Seán.” She opened the front door. Something tugged at the back of Jack’s mind. Something that told him to grab her by the arm, then go for a knife next.

Jack stood frozen in place. The thought was the only thing that kept him from asking her to stay. She walked out the front door and shut it gently behind her without even a backwards glance, but that wasn’t what bothered Jack. What bothered him was how he was suddenly hyperaware of every object around him that could possibly be used as a means to hurt her. 

“PJ,” he said to himself. “He’ll be here soon.”

Jack busied himself with hiding every sharp piece of cutlery in the broom closet. He didn’t know what was wrong with his thoughts, but he refused to listen. 

. . .

“I thought you loved pizza,” PJ said from the couch as he aimlessly channel surfed. “I even put fucking pineapple on them, you heathen. Just eat something.”

Jack was standing behind the couch, trying not to be upset. PJ had waltzed into his house no thirty minutes ago and was acting like everything was fine, that every was completely normal, that Signe had basically run from her home and boyfriend in fear, and that PJ hadn’t been sent here with direct orders to watch Jack. Like Jack was some sort of violent dog that needed a leash. Like Jack was dangerous. No, apparently PJ was just going to pretend everything was perfect fine and leave Jack in the dark, like everyone else.

“I’m going t’ bed.” Fuck staying awake at this point, it wasn’t helping a damn thing. 

“You sure?” PJ asked, all innocence. “Waste all my pizza? I think Transformers is on tonight somewhere, don’t you want to make fun of it with me?”

“Why doesn’t Signe want Felix with me?”

PJ was quiet for a second. He eyes darted around like he was thinking of the best way to avoid a truth. Then he set down his slice of pizza with a sigh. “Dude, look. I’m gonna level with you. I have absolutely no fucking clue why I’m actually here. Signe just said some shit about you being sick and that she needed to go see her parents. That’s literally it. I wish I could help you, but I don’t know the first thing about any of this, including Signe. And, you know, you don’t really even seem all that sick. Why don’t you just sit down with me and eat some pineapple poison and enjoy a bad movie with me.” He picked his food back up. He hadn’t explained Felix.

Jack hesitated. “Ye’ really know nothing?”

“I know jack-shit, Jack.”

He sounded honest. Jack actually believed him, to an extent. Jack huffed out a sound of frustration, then grabbed a pizza box from the table before sitting on the couch next to PJ. PJ made a noise of happiness and slung an arm over Jack’s shoulder. “That’s my boy,” he said, grinning widely as he ate. “I’m excited to watch things blow up with you.”

. . .

Jack wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he woke up in his bed again the next morning with the same disorientation and the same sore limbs. PJ had probably slept on the couch or something, but he felt bad for not remembering to offer up blankets and pillows or even his own bed. Jack forced himself out of bed and trudged down the stairs, going to make his first pot of coffee for the day. At first, he didn’t notice anything was off. He ground the beans and poured the water in the machine, rubbing his eyes to aid in waking up. Everything in his kitchen was normal. Too normal.

Jack paused, then looked around slowly to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. All of the knives were back in place. He opened the cutlery drawer, then the tool drawer, and confirmed the observation. The knife block was even full again, every blade placed back in their proper spot with more eye for organization than Jack usually had. 

“PJ?” he called out slowly. Why would PJ put them all back? He’d probably found the knives while looking in the closets for blankets, but why would he put them back? PJ wasn’t the kind of guy to make himself _that_ at home at a friend’s place. “You out there?” He hadn’t seen PJ on the couch in passing. Was he in the bathroom? Jack went to the bathroom and knocked. “PJ?” No response. He knocked again, but still, nothing. 

Jack turned, ready to search the rest of the house, when he heard the sound of something falling over in the bathroom. He knocked again, a little more demanding. “PJ, ye’ in there?”

“Jack?”

Jack frowned. This was the second person to hide in his bathroom. He knocked a fourth time. “Let me in,” he said. “Are ye’ hurt?”

“… _What?_ ”

“Are you hurt?” he repeated a little slower.

The door flew open to reveal PJ in the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday and wild eyes. “Jack, what are you—” He cut himself off when he saw Jack, though, looking him up and down. His brow knit together in confusion. “No,” he murmured, possibly to himself. “I, of course not. How could you be…”

“The fuck are ye’ talking about?” Jack asked, growing more tired of this by the minute. 

“Nothing,” PJ said. “Just. Just a weird dream.”

Jack couldn’t take it. Not this bullshit. Not again. The anger struck like a bullet He kicked a hole in his fucking wall. Or dented it, and it hurt his bad toe more than it helped him feel any better, but PJ jumped like he was scared, and at least Jack was beginning to understand that all of these bullshit dreams were about him somehow. 

“What the fuck, PJ,” he said in a deadpan, paying no mind to the wall. PJ couldn’t look away from it, though. “What fucking dream? Signe said the same fucking thing after I found her hiding in the fucking bathroom. What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

“Uh.” PJ didn’t have an answer for him. “I. I think I’m going to go home.”

Jack nodded stiffly. “Sure ye’ don’t wanna just leave the country?”

“Jack, you don’t get it.”

 _“Then someone needs to fucking explain it t’ me!”_ Jack shouted. “I have no fucking idea what is happening! I have no idea what is wrong with all of ye’! This is so fucking unfair!”

“I’m not a fucking doctor.” PJ was still staring at Jack like something was wrong with how he looked. How did that make sense? Why would he need a doctor? Jack wanted to kick his wall again. “I’ll try to be back tonight, but I’m sorry. I, I just can’t right now.” He brushed past Jack and was out the front door, same as Signe. Jack was left alone in his house, now at a loss. For the first time since everything had started going wrong, Jack had the sinking feeling that it was his own fault. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, tearing at his hair. Everything was going wrong. And everything that was going wrong was his fault. Something he was doing was scaring his friends away, he was _driving everyone away, he was hurting them._

Oh fuck, there was something wrong with him. He was doing something to his friends, he was saying things in his sleep, he was hurting them or scaring them, he was doing _something_ , but he didn’t know what. And until he found out, Jack couldn’t allow himself to be around anyone, he couldn’t let himself be close to his friends because he couldn’t risk making things worse. Signe and PJ were enough, he was not about to make the same mistake again. 

No, he needed to isolate himself. He needed new locks on all of his doors to keep everyone out so they wouldn’t be at risk, and he needed to shut down anything he could use to reach anyone outside these walls. He needed to keep everyone away from here. He couldn’t let himself be around anyone else.

Jack was going around his house before he knew it, locking windows and covering them with blankets. If his house was dark, he would be able to sleep more. But didn’t he want to stay awake? Jack didn’t know anymore, he just knew he needed to get locks for his doors and he needed to be alone. He wasn’t sure how he was going to manage to lock them from the outside, but it was the best way to ensure that no one got inside, so he’d figure something out. Jack covered all of the windows as he made frantic plans in his mind. He had to leave the house for a quick minute. He needed things to keep himself awake, he needed locks for the doors, and he needed food to last him the next forty fucking years or something equally unrealistic. Jack didn’t have time to think logically about it, he just needed to lock himself away before anyone else looked at him with the same fear Signe and PJ had. 

He spent an hour looking around for what he needed, because simple switch locks were too easy to break, and bike locks were useless on doorknobs. He was honestly surprised no one had called the police on him because he’d spent that hour hunching around the store, unintentionally making himself look as suspicious as possible. He hurried home with bags in his arms. He’d bought his locks, as many cheap speakers as he could get his hands on, two gallons of milk, and a loaf of bread that he had no actual intention of eating. He’d sort’ve forgotten the food aspect completely and was far more concerned with the safety of others. 

Jack locked his door behind himself and immediately put the new lock through the chain. He scoured his house for batteries and set up the speakers all-throughout, blasting which ever metal station he could get through his laptop. His home was filled with violent noise, and Jack finally felt like himself again.

He could think.

Jack sat on the couch and stared into his empty TV. He looked into his reflection and didn’t know what to do with his time. He turned the TV on. Static played. It didn’t make any sense to Jack, so he kept staring. He was so tired. Looking into the nothing helped soothe something inside him, like a helpful hand on his shoulder. Jack relaxed into the couch. The static played in front of him, then behind his eyelids. Something deep inside enjoyed it and Jack finally felt at peace.

He fell into a state of emptiness. There was nothing happening in his mind, no registration of the noise of the light on the screen. He only saw the seizure of black and white. His limbs felt detached. It was like he was floating in the sea, suspended in lukewarm water that made him feel like his entire body was levitating. There was no sensation. There was no sound. T̢h͇̯̣̙e̙͇r̺̦͉͓̜̣ę̞͎͍ ͏͎͎̦̩w̭͙̬̜̺̻̙a̳̮s̞̀ ̜̲͇͞a̪̮͍̣̭ ̖͔sh̳̪͈a̳̘̺d̢͎̳̗̮̫o̴̮̲̟̣̝w̳ ̰͕̬̯͕̜̫l͈̝o̯͉̖̰̙͈͕om̸̖͚̹i̷͔̬͔̙̯͚͚n̲̘͎̠͚g͏͇͓̞͎̻ ̸̦͚̜ó̟͍̳̜ve̢̘̤̮r̴̺̹̫͚͔ͅ ͖̝̝͓h̥̱̣is̪̫ ̹̖̱̣h̦͔̤̣̙̫͔ę̙̤̹͍a̖̹d̡̟̼̘̫.͘

There was a loud ring from his door, barely audible over the screaming. It was dark outside and while Jack wasn’t sure when or how that had even happened, he assumed who it was at the door. He hadn’t expected PJ to come back, though. Part of him was touched. Another part of him was ready to tell PJ to leave. Jack was better off alone. 

Jack pulled himself from the static. He stumbled to his door, momentarily confused by the numbness in his legs. How long had he been sitting on the couch? Considering it had been noon when he’d first sat and now it was pitch black outside, he could assume he’d been there for quite a while. Jack got to the door and unlocked both locks, making care to leave the secondary close by so he wouldn’t forget it. He’d tell PJ to leave, then lock the door again. Jack rested his hand on handle and steadied himself. It rang again, and then there was a knock. Jack pulled the door open, only realizing in the back of his mind that he should’ve turned down the music. “Didn’t think ye’d show—” PJ’s name died on his tongue when he saw silver hair that definitely didn’t belong to an Englishman.

Felix raised a brow. He had a brown bag in one hand that displayed the McDonalds logo, and a backpack in the other. “Didn’t know you were expecting anyone, to be honest,” Felix said, hardly thrown off by what Jack had said. He glanced past Jack into the dark house. He seemed unbothered by the music. “Are those sheets?”

“Signe doesn’t want ye’ here,” was the first, stupid thing to come out of Jack’s mouth. What a greeting. Felix didn’t seem all that upset by it, luckily, and even grinned at Jack, though he did look slightly confused.

“I wonder why,” Felix said. “I brought you food.”

“People seem to think bringing me food is the best way to placate me.” God, what had happened to Jack’s filter? He wasn’t saying necessarily horrible things, but he wasn’t speaking as he normally would. He had less control. His head still felt a little empty from the TV. 

“That’s a saying, isn’t it?” Felix asked, still taking Jack’s oddness in stride. “The quickest way to  a man’s dick is through his stomach? Heart. Quickest way to a man’s heart.” Felix grinned wider, visibly proud of himself. “I’ll get to your heart eventually, Seán. I just have to stuff you full of hamburgers and garbage.” He held up the bag and wiggled it around in the air. Jack caught its scent. The food was still warm and Jack’s stomach grumbled. “Can I come in? Not to complain or anything, but it’s fucking cold out here and I’m just in a track suit. Is that what these are called? The internet calls them Slav-suits, so I have no idea.”

Jack hesitated. He hadn’t wanted anyone around moments before, and stubbornly so, but Felix had food and his smile was infectious. Jack wasn’t sure if it was a bad idea to welcome Felix inside, especially after learning that Signe specifically didn’t want Felix around him. Except Signe had fucking left, and Felix was here. A spiteful side of Jack reared its ugly head. He opened the door wider and wordlessly welcomed Felix inside with a gesture of his hand. He’d been cursing Felix only a day before. Jack was going to get whiplash.

“Jesus, dude, are all your windows covered?” Felix looked a little concerned. “I wish I’d known you were this sick, I would’ve come by sooner and brought something healthier. Does the sunlight hurt your head or your eyes? Do you have anything for the pain?”

Jack shut the door and worked in the second lock. He heard Felix stop and looked up after locking the door twice. Jack met Felix’s curious stare with a firm look of his own. He dared Felix to ask. 

“Was there a robbery around here?” Felix asked. Jack was a little surprised at the tact.

“Something like that,” Jack replied vaguely. Felix just nodded and the looked to the TV playing endless static. Felix didn’t even ask about that— he only crossed the room, let his finger hover over the power button to give Jack time to stop him, and then shut the TV off when Jack didn’t. 

“I’ll plate this so it seems a little less like takeaway,” Felix said to Jack, heading to the kitchen. “Just lay on the couch, yeah? I’ll bring you the food and we’ll watch something or another. Pick out a movie or a show, I don’t care. I’m here to keep you company.”

“What brought ye’?”

Felix poked his head out from around the column that separated the kitchen from the living room. “PJ gave me a call. Told me he was worried about you being sick and that he couldn’t afford to catch anything. I told him I’d cover for him, at least for tonight. Is that okay?”

Jack couldn’t tell if he was lying or not. He realized he didn’t know if PJ would tell Felix about whatever dream he’d had, because he didn’t know who qualified as a good friend for Felix beyond Brad. Jack grimaced and went to the couch without answering Felix. He wanted the static again, but it would’ve been weird to turn it back on so soon after Felix had shut it down. But the calm of the noise…

Jack slouched over on the couch, falling listlessly on his side. He was starting to feel a little bit more like himself, but simultaneously more tired. It was like maintaining his character took up too much energy. He could hear Felix moving around in the kitchen, bringing down plates and cups. The noise of another person in the house was a weird comfort. Jack was suddenly aware of the screaming metal again. “Want me t’ turn this off?” Jack asked, just loud enough to be heard.

“I don’t mind it!” Felix replied from the kitchen. “Did you know Mikael Stanne is from my town?”

Jack made a face. “What?” He sat up, looking to Felix over the island. 

Felix smiled at Jack for some reason, soft and appreciative. Maybe his hair was fucked up. Felix pointed to the nearest speaker. “Mikael Stanne, he’s the singer. He’s from Göteburg.” Felix kept bustling around the kitchen. “Fun fact, Björn Ulvaeus is also from Göteburg.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Jack asked. He wasn’t even sure who Mikael Stanne had been. He didn’t know the song that was playing.

“Ulvaeus?” Felix repeated. “He was in ABBA. He was the first ‘B.’”

Jack snorted a laugh. “Ye’ would know that.”

“I have to be proud of my Swedish heritage in some way, dude. We’ve got death metal and pop bands. That’s kinda it.” Felix came into the living room with Jack’s burger and fries plated with elegance. Felix had even made an adorning swirl of ketchup off to the side. “Your dinner,” Felix said, making his voice as deep as possible. He sounded goofy. Jack snickered, able to relax like this better than with the static’s influence, like he had with PJ. When people treated him like he was normal, everything was fine. “Did you pick a movie?”

Jack finally switched off the loud music, and Felix ended up finding the new Blade Runner, a movie Jack genuinely loved. Felix, though, had a hard time with it. “It has nothing to do with my English, swear to god,” Felix said, feigning anger when Jack suggested that his inability to follow the story came from Felix’s sometimes-unreliable English. It wasn’t like Felix was illiterate— he just didn’t know some of the larger words.

It was fun. Honest, wholesome fun. Felix would pause then and again to ask for a definition or an explanation, but Jack never found it annoying. He could tell Felix genuinely wanted to understand, and Jack was never someone to hold the language barrier against anyone else. He’d tried to learn Korean for an ex-girlfriend, Jack knew what the limits of language could be.

But regardless of the fun or the way Felix had a knack for keeping all eyes on him, Jack’s attention span started to weaken as the drowsiness returned. His eyelids grew heavy, and he could see the static past Harrison Ford’s face. Jack felt himself start to list to the side, into Felix, but he couldn’t stop it. He was too tired to express his gratitude when Felix only shifted on the couch to make his shoulder more comfortable for Jack to fall asleep against.

His final thought was some sort of prayer, begging that Felix wouldn’t leave him like everyone else the next day.

. . .

Felix lost track of what was happening with the androids after Seán fell asleep, though not for lack of trying. He just wasn’t cut out for complex story telling unless it was in Swedish. Regardless, he stayed where he was for a little bit longer, just to give Seán a few more moments to fall into a deeper sleep. After glancing at the time on his phone and seeing it was barely past ten, he gently lifted Seán off his shoulder, then lifted the other as well as he could. After some finagling, he slung Seán’s arm over his shoulder and hoisted Seán into Seán’s room. Seán mumbled something incoherent, but barely woke. All he really did was plant his feet now and again for Felix. 

Felix lied Jack gently across the unmade bed. As he pulled the duvet over Seán’s limp form, his chest ached with sympathy. 

PJ had called Felix in controlled hysterics, ranging between freaking the fuck out, and speaking with no emotion to his voice at all. He’d described some hazy nightmare to Felix, of being chased around the apartment by a knife-wielding assailant, and then told Felix, with more vehemence than Felix usually heard from him, that he couldn’t spend another night with Seán, but that Seán also couldn’t be alone. Felix, of course, had volunteered, and PJ had only hesitated a moment before agreeing that Felix should be the one to stay with him, if only so PJ wouldn’t have to. But PJ had warned him about some sort of danger that would come at night. 

It had sounded a little like bullshit until Felix had seen that Seán had an extra lock on the door. Signe had also described someone in the night with a knife, so maybe there was some sort of serial burglar getting into Jack’s house. And even though Signe and PJ had both been incredibly unhelpful with any sort of description or desire to, you know, _go to the fucking police_ , Felix was confident he’d be able to handle whatever the fuck was supposed to happen. After tucking Seán in for the night, he went back out to his car to grab the baseball bat he’d brought with him for defense, then relocked the house. He didn’t want to step on Seán’s toes. The Irishman was nervous for a reason, and Felix didn’t want to test his temper. 

He lied down on the couch and switched the TV, bypassing the static with little pause. Seán was sick, of course he wasn’t going to act like himself. Felix left the channel on Film4, before lying back and settling in for a watchful night. If anyone showed up, he’d smash their skull in, no hesitation. He wasn’t about to let anyone hurt Seán. 

. . .

Felix woke up with a shadow looming over his head. 

In the low glow of the static, he immediately recognized the silhouette as Seán. Felix sat up, rubbing at his eyes, groggy. “Dude,” he said. “You okay?” Maybe Seán had woken up with some sort of new symptom. “Need something? Water?”

Seán was just standing there, but again, he was sick and Felix wasn’t about to analyze his behavior beyond that. Or at least, he wasn’t going to, until he saw the carving knife held loosely in Seán’s hands.  
  
“Dude,” Felix said again, his voice lower. “What…” He looked up at Seán’s face, but he couldn’t make out his expression well enough in the dark. “Seán, hey,” he said, trying to get some sort of clue as to what was happening. “Did someone come in? Are you hurt?” Felix looked around reflexively for the bat he’d brought, but it was gone. Had Seán taken it? The hair on the back of Felix’s neck stood on end. “Seán, talk to me.” He reached out to try and pry the knife from Seán’s hand, but Seán took a step back. Once he did, he exposed himself to a little more light. For a split second, Felix could swear that Seán’s eyes were bright green.

_“You’re not wanted here.”_

That didn’t sound like Seán. Felix swallowed hard, suddenly feeling far too defenseless while lied out on the couch like this. The knife glinted in the static. His instincts screamed for him to run, but he forced himself to see reason. This was Seán. Brown hair, facial hair, shoulders, hips, legs, feet. This was Seán down to his fingerprints because there was no one else it could be. The door had to still be locked. This wasn’t… this was Seán. Felix had to keep telling himself or he’d try to run away. 

“Think you can get back to bed?” Felix asked, working hard to keep his voice steady. “Or are you too awake? Wanna watch another movie?”

“Y͘ọͅu̧'̵̣͎r͞e̳ ̧̻̩̩̖̗o̫̮̬͍͇͔̦b̹͚̙̲͠s̛̯e̫̥͉̦͙s̯̪̖̹̝s̸̤͎͕e̫̪̠̭̲d̲̬̰̹ ̙͎̖͚w͢i̩̗t̲͈̖̠̮̭̮h͍͕̯͉ ̸h̴̭͈͇͓į̬͍m͔͓̬̳̱͜.͇̥̠”

Felix dug his nails into the couch. “Uh, no? I, I’m just trying to help you. Who are we talking about?”

“Do you think I can’t see it? Everyone else can. He’s the only one too _stupid_ to see the truth right in front of his fucking face.” A step forward. Seán eyes couldn’t be green, not like that. “The girl saw it and even she wanted you as far away from him as possible. Y͇o̠͎̟̯u̱͈͚̥͞'̗̻̼͕r͍̠ͅe̦̲͈̥ ̰̼͍d͈̮̪͢i̩̰̖̤̘s̗̙g̢̜̻̮̙̻u͉͖͚̫̟̲̰͘st̰̹͔̥͙ing̹̟̜͓̳ͅ.̟”

Felix shook his head, unable to do much else. Seán took another step closer. Felix tried to make himself as small as he could. “Seán—”

_“I’m not. Fucking. Seán.”_

The knife was raised into the air. The sharp edge caught the light from the static. Felix’s eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

He rolled off the couch as the knife was thrusted into where he’d been lying, sliding between the cushions. Felix darted across the floor to the nearest wall, facing Seán. He reached out an unsteady hand, psyching himself up to approach with caution and feel for a fever. “Seán, seriously, I-I need you to—”

“I͉̫ͅ'̤̱m̳͙͕͉̖ͅ ̷̠̣̯n̵̬o̧̩̳̼͚̥͚ṭ̺̭̜ ̲̠̟͖͘g̛o̘̺͉̙̭in̪̤̘̗͟g̶̘̺̜̗̹̞̗ ̝̯͓͔̞t̥̰̙̯o̳̬͖ ̜͔̘̲t̠͍̝̦́ͅe̸̪͈ͅl̼̝̟l͇̰͍͎̺͟ ͔͓y̧̤̦o̗͓̜̟u̸͔̙̼ ̵t̟̺͠w̳̰͎͍i̸̪c͔e͙͕!͚̩̦̞̺͎͜”

The knife was swung at Felix again and he dropped to the floor, ducking only just in time. Seán stalked forward and a foot was suddenly rammed into Felix’s stomach. He coughed, the wind literally kicked out of his lungs. Felix looked up and caught Seán’s arm as the knife was thrusted down, aiming for his head. “Seán, stop!” Felix cried out, barely able to hold Seán’s arm in the air. When had he gotten so strong?

“You’re really starting to p͉̰̱͍͠i̩͇͓s̟̪͇͡s̮̤̘̙ͅͅ me off,” Seán said, his face twisted in a cruel smile. He pulled his arm back, ready to stab down at Felix again. Felix fell to the side and crawled as fast as he could from Seán. A horrible, high pitched laugh followed him. Felix scrambled to his feet, barely able to stand on shaking legs. He ran down the hall. _“You’ll never be fast enough!”_

Felix ran down the hall, falling into the bathroom and throwing the door shut behind him. He locked it, but it was just a tiny mechanism built into the door handle. It would never hold. Felix braced himself against the door to keep it shut. His entire body was trembling. He waited for something to happen.

After a long moment of terrifying silence, that laugh came again, right behind the door, right by Felix’s ear. 

“e͙̥̯͈̬̭v̝͠e̲ŕ̘͖̣̲yb̰̦̖̫o͙d͉̗̦̲̘y͖̩̯̲͔͍ ̪̗͞k̤̱͕͔̟͇͠n̡̝̮̹̭o̧̫͎͔̖̬̰͇ẃ͓̤̺ś̙͓̤̱̫̯̹,” Seán said, that laugh hanging off the edge of the phrase. “Why do you think the girl didn’t want you around? Why do you think no one ever leaves you alone with him? _They know you’re sick_. They know what you want and they know it’s wrong. _You’re a freak. A monster._ Y̱̳̜̟̺̹o͏̭̩͕̥̳͓͔u̙̭͟'̵̹̰̯͚r̦̼e̻̼̮̺ ̬̪̭ẃo̧͕rş̮̪̘e͟ ̮t̫̥̼͚̳h̯̦̩a͇̩̰n̺̗͙ ̴̦͉̱̹m̴̗͎ẹ̪͕̟̹̘.”

Felix let the words sink in and refused to believe it was Seán. If Seán ever found out what Felix was hiding from him, he knew Seán wouldn’t taunt him like this. He knew Seán wouldn’t play with his stupid, rampant emotions. Felix shuddered out a breath and shut his eyes, forcing himself to relax just a little. Seán wasn’t trying to break in. Felix was going to be fine. 

A sharp pain in his wrist had Felix yelping out a noise of pain. The knife slid back underneath the crack under the door, disappearing from view. Felix looked to where his wrist had been sliced open. For a moment, he thought he was going to die. There was a lot of blood for such a simple cut. “Oh fuck, Seán, _what the fuck_ ,” he choked out, shaking again. 

_“I’m not fucking Seán.”_

“You are, you are, you have to be,” Felix babbled as he pressed into the cut to staunch the bleeding. It wasn’t deep. He had to keep telling himself it wasn’t that deep. “You can’t be.”

“Which is it, _Felix?_ ” God, the way Seán was saying his name sounded wrong. “You were stupid to run. Prolonging the inevitable. I’ll be here again tomorrow night, don’t you understand it? _I’m not going to leave._ I may not be behind this door in the morning, but I’ll be at your side again tonight.” That cruel laugh. Felix whimpered and dug his fingers into his hair. His wrist bled into it. 

“You’re just gonna stay in there?” Seán asked. “C̹̜̮ͅo̯w̵̱͚̯͓̤̞a̙̰̼̞̙̕r̶̟̣̹͔͔̥̝d͠. Shitty little ç̭͕͔o͎̥̲͔w̖̲̩̮̞͉a̠̘r̴̺̫̩͚d̯̼̤̱̬ͅ.” There was a sound behind the door. “I guess I’ll just have to see you tomorrow.” There was a small knock on the wood. “Or maybe I could just keep you company.”

“Oh fuck.” Felix pulled his knees to his chest. He was _still fucking bleeding._ Seán still had a knife and Felix was still defenseless. “Who are you?” he asked. “If you’re not Seán, then who the fuck are you?”

“I’m sure you’ve got a couple ideas, Felix. You’re a _sick fuck_ , but you are clever sometimes.” Felix could just hear that horrible smile that looked like the grin of a bloodthirsty animal. “It’s not like there are a lot of options out there for you to choose from. W͇̰͚ͅͅh̲̹̭̦̬̝͈͜o̪̤͉̮̦̝̺͡ ̹̙͕̺͈̘e̛̖̟̥͔͖͍l̠̗̭̣̳͔͜s̵̰͕̣̠̠͈̬e̷̲ ̜͝c͜ó͙̺̩ṵ̘̙͞l̡̘̠̳d̖̜̫̻̠͉̦ ̗̗į͎̖͈͍t͍͍̦̮͉͔ ̤͉̖̟̀ḇ̹͓ͅe̡?̩̞̭̮͖̝”

“You’re not fucking real,” Felix swore.

“A͍̗̺̜͙̟͡ͅǹ͇̟d̥̫̳͈̙̫ ̤̠͔̙̞͝n̵͓̜̩e̻͔i̤̞̭͓͙̻̝t̗̘͖̜̬͜he͍̞̙̬r̬̱̳ ̡̳̪̟̜͙͈͖i͖͉͍ș̱̱̪̼͠ ̤̜̼͍̙̫̩͞th̤͜a̹̙̞͕̟t͝ ̡̮̻̠͍̹̲͕c̮̠̭͙͙̯͡ụ̱̹͢t͉͕̱̙̣̰͡ ̲̣͓i̼̮͓̜̹̪̮n͎̘̦̤͖ ̼͕͍̞͜y̡͓͎͎͔̱̟̣o͎͇͖͕̼u̡̖̼͚͖͇r̹ ͢s̸k͉̣̳̺i̖͇̞̱̯̞̻ņ.” Felix’s eyes went down to the blood. He didn’t know what was real aside from that knife. “S̰̙̭͔͉i̼̫͉͙̯c̪̥̪k, s̗̤̦͇͔̘͘ic͎̳̗̭̯̦k͈̮̱̯̩̤̀, s̱̼̟͞i̳͢c̩k̛͕,” Not-Seán sang. “Sick as a dog. Sick as man. The girl worked so hard to keep Jack safe. It’s a sad day in hell when someone’s fear drives them from the one they love the most. Now not even she can protect Jack from you.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Felix whispered, shutting his eyes again. Not-Seán continued to chant his favorite word. _“Shut up!”_ Felix shouted, hitting the door with his fist. He was only met with that same fucking laugh. “Shut up,” he sobbed, the panic finally crashing. “Just, just shut up. Please.”

“Then how will you know I̗̺͈̻̙̮'҉m̫̩̥̝̗̕ ̮̜͓h̲̩͚͓e̱̳̯͇͇̳r̢͍̠̯̥̹ͅe̻̗̣̼̺?”

Felix clamped his hands over his ears and refused to listen. It wasn’t Seán. It just couldn’t be.


	2. -.-. --- -. ... ..- -- .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took fucking forever and the last chapter is gonna take even longer sorry my dudes hope ya'll like it regardless

Jack woke up in his bed, and it was the first time it made sense. Felix was strong enough. Felix could easily carry him to bed with enough effort and then tuck him in. Felix was definitely the type of person to go out of his way for the comfort of others, it wasn’t hard to believe that he would carry Jack. 

Jack stretched and grimaced at the soreness. It was his own fault for falling asleep on the couch, and he made a mental note to thank Felix for carrying back to his room. Jack pried himself out of bed and stretched again, reaching up towards the ceiling. He had a list of things to do in his head. Check all the locks to make sure no one had broken in, call Signe to check up on her, and hide all the knives away again. He wasn’t sure what Felix would want to do with their day, but if Felix believed Jack to be sick, he doubted it would be anything strenuous. 

Belatedly, Jack realized he had a lot of confidence in the idea that Felix would still be here. After losing Signe and PJ, there was no reason for Jack to think Felix would still be here the morning after. Why was he so sure that he’d find Felix downstairs, making breakfast or watching TV? It wasn’t like Jack meant any more to Felix than he did to PJ, and definitely not in the same way as Signe. Why would Felix still be here?

Why would he stick around someone as horrible as Jack? Why would he put himself through whatever was happening? Felix deserved better. He shouldn’t have to subject himself to this fucking agony of being around Jack just because Jack couldn’t handle the fact that he was meant to be alone and abandoned. He was worthless. He was a stain. 

Jack pressed his palms into his eyes. “No,” he whispered under his breath, a gentle command to himself. “Not true.”Jack went downstairs without changing. He felt a little colder when he saw Felix wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. Jack looked around the downstairs with a growing sense of dread. 

Felix was gone. He was gone. He’d gotten wise and left like everyone else. Jack was alone. He was abandoned. No one cared about him, no one ever did, and no one ever would, because they all had realized just how much of a fucking waste of life Jack was. He was a mistake. A huge fucking mistake. 

Jack wandered the downstairs of his house one last, listless time, before seeing the light flick on in the bathroom. Jack stared at this new light for a long moment, wondering if his eyes were playing a trick on him. His entire house had been dark moments before. The sheets covering the windows made this small sliver of light all the more obvious. Jack wet his lips. He was almost scared to find out if anyone was actually there. “Felix?” There was quiet. “Fe’, ye’ in there?”

“Seán?”

There was the sound of a feeble lock turning, and then Felix opened the door. He didn’t come out, though. Jack started to chew on his lip as he approached with caution. He peered inside. 

Felix was backed up against the counter, his hands braced against the marble. There was a bandage around his right wrist. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday and he looked just as awful as PJ and Signe had in the mornings. Jack’s heart sunk. “I’ll grab yer bag.”

Felix, though, made a face. “Dude, what?”

“Yer bag, Fe’. You’re leaving, yeah?” Jack turned to leave, ready to just get Felix’s shit and get him out of there. He wanted to have this over with and move on as quickly as possible. “Just, just let me get it for ye’. Go by the door.”

Felix snorted. “Dude, I’m about to take a shower. Like, I mean, you can totally get me my shit cause I’ve got to change, but I’m not about to leave.” Felix grinned. It was shaky. There was something wrong and Felix was just acting like it was okay. “Are you just here to watch me get naked or something?” The teasing was so forced, but—

“You’re not leaving?” Jack asked, just to make sure. “You, you’re gonna stay. And ye’ll be here tomorrow.” He looked down and saw he was reaching out towards Felix. The other man was looking at his hand like he didn’t understand. “I, I, sorry,” Jack stammered. “Just had a lot of people leave lately.” He made to lower his hand, but Felix reached out and held onto Jack’s wrist. He stared at it for a long moment. 

“You feeling okay, Seán?” Felix asked after running a hand over the blue of Jack’s vein. Jack shuddered at the touch. Felix’s hand was oddly warm. “Look, I—“ Felix cut himself off for a moment, then said. “I had a weird dream.”

Jack yanked his hand back. “Fuck you.”

“I’m serious,” Felix said. “Someone. Someone came into the house. They had a knife and they chased me around and it was just a little freaky, is all. Pretty sure they had on, like, normal clothes. Totally had a fucking knife, though, and I just, I ran and I hid. Then I…” Felix paused. Then he shrugged. “Then I woke up on the couch. I’m feeling a little shaky, so. I’m sorry if I act weird.” Felix nodded to the shower. “Just gonna try and get grounded again. You know how nightmares can be.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “And ye’ swear that’s it?” He was more eager to believe Felix because he was desperate for him to stay. Jack would believe just about anything to keep from being alone.

“Dude, if you want to see me naked, all you’ve got to do is ask.” Felix sent him this gaudy wink that caused a tinge of annoyance to twist in Jack’s chest, but he embraced it. Anything to know that he hadn’t been abandoned again.

“I’ll bring ye’ yer clothes,” Jack said, waving Felix off and his offhanded flirtation. “Just get wet.”

“We’re gonna make breakfast together after this!”

Jack wanted to spit back something about not being hungry, but that reaction barely made any sense. He’d just been grateful to not be alone, and now his brain wanted him to drive Felix away? What the fuck, Jack? Felix just wanted to hang out with him or something. Felix was just as lonely as Jack. No reason to be a dick. “Sounds fine by me,” he mumbled, unable to dredge up any excitement. Felix sent him this look, but didn’t comment. He waved awkwardly and then slowly shut the door. Jack realized he hadn’t been making to leave. Fuck, Felix probably thought he was some sort of pervert at this point.

Fuck.

Jack turned on his heel and dropped onto the couch. It wasn’t warm and it was a little stiff. He felt like Felix had lied about waking up on this thing. He felt like Felix was lying about a lot. But Jack didn’t want to second guess him and run Felix out. Jack drug his fingers into the cushions of the couch and kept chewing on his lip. There was the slight taste of copper after a sudden sharp sting of pain. Jack made a face and put his fingers to his lips, pulling the fingers back to find blood. Oddly enough, the pain was a grounding. Jack stared into the red of his own blood. Then he looked down at the blue vein in his wrist Felix had touched. He could always do with a little more red than blue.

Then he looked to the knives in the kitchen.

The rampant thought lingered too long. Jack was on his feet and hiding the knives again, unable to cope with the self destructive thoughts his brain was forcing into his consciousness. The knives were dangerous to have around and he still didn’t know why PJ had put them all back in their places. After putting the knives in the broom closet, he started to obsessively dig through all of his drawers for anything that could be used to hurt someone else. He hid away the forks, then the plates, then the glasses. All that was left in his kitchen was spoons. Not even a pair of tongs survived his search.

Fuck, how was he gonna make breakfast with Felix? He’d figure it out later. For now, the shower was still running, and Jack dropped onto the couch, turning the tele on. The static played like he’d never shut it off. He felt the black and white noise lull him back into where he’d been yesterday. Everything was fine here. Everything was okay. The shadow looming over his head meant no harm.

. . .

Jack startled awake by a hand on his shoulder. He looked around wildly and saw a paper plate of waffles in front of his face. He had no idea where Felix could have gotten these, until he saw the styrofoam containers off to the side advertising a brunch place Felix always talked about one day dragging Jack to. Felix was in front of the static. He was watching Jack lift his head like Felix was expecting to see someone else. There was relief after a long moment of tense silence between the two of them.

“You gonna eat?” Felix asked, his tone deceivingly neutral.

“Breakfast, I guess.” Jack looked down at the waffle. It looked a little soggy with syrup. Syrup? He’d always preferred honey. Felix shook his head.

“Try mid-afternoon lunch,” Felix told him. “You’ve, uh. Been napping.” That sounded shifty. “Well, napping with your eyes open.” Felix sent him that shaky smile again. “Dude, you, you know you can tell me anything, right? Like, if you’re upset with me or someone else or yourself. You can talk to me. You can tell me anything. _Anything._ ” Felix sounded like he was begging, but he was still standing a little too far away, blocking Jack’s view of the static. Oddly enough, not having the noise was making it harder for Jack to focus. He fumbled for words, but all that came to mind was horrible things about Felix’s person. Like how bad his beard looked, or how horrible his accent was, or how stupid he was in general. Felix looked afraid of him and Jack wasn’t threatening in any way, so what the fuck was his problem?

No. Jack couldn’t think that way, not when Felix was like this. Not when he was literally desperate for something from Jack. Felix was begging to be let in, begging to find out what was wrong, and Jack couldn’t lash out at him for it because all Jack had wanted was for someone to sound like they cared about him beyond how they stood with Jack. Here Felix was, giving him that unselfish concern, and all Jack could do was spit it back in his face with cruel words. Felix hadn’t even asked about all of the weird shit Jack was doing— he’d just taken it all in stride and bought him breakfast instead of making it, even though it was past noon. Felix was doing everything Jack had wanted and Jack was just…

“There’s something wrong with me,” Jack said, working hard on keeping his voice steady. “I don’t know what. I think I’m really sick.”

Felix was sitting on the floor in front of Jack in a split second, looking up at him with big, worried eyes. The blue shone like the sky and, for a moment, Jack was entranced. He couldn’t remember ever actually taking note of all the colors that existed in Felix’s eyes. They looked like the flecks of paint that fell from an artist’s brush. 

“Yeah, really sick,” Jack reaffirmed after realizing he’d been staring into Felix’s eyes for a few seconds too long. “I’m tired all the time. I-I have these words in my head that ain’t mine. They’re horrible and mean and I’m sometimes too tired to keep myself from saying them. Everyone’s leaving me. Everyone’s treating me like I’m some sort of monster. Even you’re scared of me.”

Felix sat back, affronted, but he didn’t deny it. Jack swallowed hard. “See?” he asked. “Ye’ are. And I don’t know what I did to make you scared of me, and I don’t know how to fix it. You said ye’ had a dream, but is that all there is? Was the dream about me, Felix?”

Felix shook his head. “I’ve had dreams about you before, Seán, and none of them are ever like that. It wasn’t you.”

Felix had dreamed about him? Well, so had Jack. The usual dream you’d have after hanging around a friend for a long time. People you spent days with tended to worm their way into your subconscious thoughts. Jack suddenly wanted to talk about anything but himself. “Are they nice dreams?” he asked in a shaky little voice. When Felix didn’t immediately answer, Jack continued. “I mean, I-I’ve had dreams with ye’ in ‘em too. One time I had a dream that I killed all of me friends, like in the Hunger Games. Shotgun blasted you right between the eyes.” Jack smiled and felt like crying. He was so tired. “It was awful, Fe’.”

“I once dreamed I was a viking and you were this weird witch dude,” Felix said, catching on to what Jack wanted. “We were totally awesome, up until the point where we, like, died in battle together. Super sad.”

“I once had a dream where ye’ had a pug’s head.”

“Edgar’s?”

“Yeah, ye’ spent the whole time tryin’ t’ lick yer own ass.”

Felix chuckled and Jack’s smile hurt a little less. “If I didn’t shit everywhere, I’d have to say that I was a betrayal to Edgar’s character.” Felix was still sitting on the floor, but he didn’t look uncomfortable. Jack hoped his neck wasn’t hurting with the way Felix was looking up at him. “I once dreamed that you were, like, this Jedi Knight, coming to save me from Ben Swolo.”

“Ye’ don’t even like Star Wars,” Jack snorted.

“I know, it was more of a nightmare than anything.” Felix grinned and then reached over to take the plate that had Jack’s food on it. “Do me a favor and eat,” He beseeched. “You’ve been sitting in front of this TV all day, and if you really are sick, then you’re going to need to keep your nutrients and water up and shit. Think it’s something like a bad flu?”

“Or something,” Jack mumbled. He took the plates and stabbed at the waffles with a plastic fork that had been off to the side. Even overloaded with syrup, the waffles tasted fantastic. He regretted not taking Felix up on his invitation to the brunch place earlier. “Honestly, it ain’t the sickness that’s worrying me. What’s worrying me is me-self.” Jack sighed and ate a few syrup-drowned strawberries. “Don’t wanna hurt ye’ on accident, Fe’.”

Something shuttered closed in Felix’s eyes, and the blue almost looked gray. Felix tensed on the floor. It looked a lot more painful to be sitting there than before. Felix cast his eyes away. “I know you would never do that, Seán,” Felix said, putting meaning behind his name, a weight that Jack didn’t understand. “Just focus on getting better. I’m sure all you need is some more rest.”

“But I feel worse every time I wake up,” Jack whined. “Me limbs feel all twisted and heavy and I’m always scared someone will be gone. Signe left, PJ left, you’re next. I hate falling asleep cause I hate waking up.” He looked to Felix for answers, but the Swede obviously had none. If anything, he looked nervous. Jack paused, looking down Felix. He was still sitting on the floor and he still looked uncomfortable. He still had— “Felix, how’d ye’ hurt yourself?” he asked, attention being brought to the bandage he’d seen earlier this morning. Felix wrapped his hand around the bandage, like he was attempting to hide it from sight. 

“Just fell, is all,” Felix said cryptically. “I mean, it was really my fault. Had that dream and got scared. Stood up a little too quickly and moved around too fast in a dark house I didn’t know.” Felix smiled self-deprecatingly. “My own stupid mistake.”

“How bad is it?” Jack asked, leaning forward. “Can I see? Depending on what ye’ cut yerself on, we’ll need t’ disinfect it. Did ye’ tend to it?” He reached out. Felix pulled back with a grimace.

“It looks bad, Seán,” he said in ways of a weak explanation. Jack narrowed his eyes. 

“Like I give a shit,” he snapped. “Have ye’ seen my toe? Give me yer fuckin’ wrist, Felix, don’t be a p̺̬͉̱̤͟i͔̗͓̝̱͈̙͟e͚c̖̤̯e̬̳͖̕ ̡̯͉͔of̫̲̥͖ͅͅ ̭͖s̫̜h̝̖̻̭̥i̖͎͖͕̟̯͝t̛.”

Felix’s eyes went wide and he held his arm out like he was on autopilot. He was looking at Jack like he was expecting for someone else again. Jack held Felix’s wrist a little too tightly in retaliation for the bullshit. He pulled back the bandage. A cold feeling washed over him when he saw the cut. 

“This…” He fell silent. It had been done with a knife, anyone could see that. It was a clean slice across Felix’s wrist from something sharp. It was right across the blue vein that Jack had obsessed over earlier in the shape of his own wrist. It looked— it looked self-inflicted. “Felix,” he said in a low, cautious voice. “Are you… okay?”

“See, I know you’d act like this.” Felix pulled his hand back and corrected the bandage. He didn’t look upset. He only looked a little tilted. Was Jack supposed to know something about this? Had Felix been self-harming? How had Jack missed something this big? “I didn’t do it,” Felix said. Jack didn’t believe him. _“I didn’t,”_ Felix insisted when he saw as much in Jack’s expression. “I seriously just freaked out and fell. I don’t know what I cut myself on, but it was probably something in the bathroom.”

“How’d ye’ end up in the bathroom?” Jack asked neutrally. Little things in Felix’s story just weren’t adding up. “Ye’ had a nightmare and you ran all the way down the hallway?”

“I told you, I was scared.” Felix sighed and stood. “Eat your food, Seán. I want you in bed by six tonight. Whatever’s making you sick, we’re gonna nip it in the bud. Is that what that saying means? Being proactive, right?” Felix was trying to pull attention away from the cut, even though Jack now couldn’t tear his eyes away from the bandage if he wanted to. “Eat and take a shower or something. You need the rest and the TLC. We’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the night.” 

Jack watched Felix force a smile and hated everything about this day. He hated being lied to and manipulated. He hated being kept in the dark. He hated being used. Jack put his food to the side and stood, refusing to eat another bite. He saw disappointment flash over Felix’s face, but paid no mind to it. If Felix wanted to play, then Jack would play. They could both be bitter little shits. He went to the downstairs bathroom, under the guise of doing as commanded. Jack looked around for whatever Felix could have claimed to cut himself on. Jack had hidden away everything this morning, but Felix had been down here, taking a shower. He hadn’t been able to clear this room out. Felix could’ve hurt himself with anything. He could’ve used the hooks of the shower curtain or the hinges of the door or—

Jack paused when he found Felix’s beard trimmer in one of the drawers. The blades weren’t exactly that easy to access, but if Felix were determined enough… 

A dark shadow overcame Jack’s eyes, and before he knew it, the trimmer was on the tiled floor, smashed on impact. Jack stumbled backwards, away from the broken object. He didn’t even remember breaking it. He didn’t even have a memory of the sound. Jack fell back into the tub, losing his balance and falling into the ceramic. The door flew open, Felix’s panicked face being the first thing Jack saw. Then Felix’s eyes went to his broken beard trimmer on the ground, and something odd washed over Felix.

There was a tense moment of silence between the two of them. It was obvious what had happened. The trimmer wouldn’t have been broken so completely from a simple drop— it was obvious that Jack had thrown it to the floor with every intent to destroy, even if he didn’t remember it. Felix stared at the broken trimmer, visibly processing what he was seeing.

“Guess those were more fragile than I’d thought,” Felix finally said, blindsiding and shocking Jack. “Well, I’ll buy a new set tomorrow. Not like I can’t afford to let this baby grow out a little more.” Felix tugged at his beard, but not in an attempt to show it off. He then went down on his knees and carefully collected the pieces. “You’re not hurt, right?”

Jack didn’t know what to do. His legs hung over the edge of the bathtub. He couldn’t feel the edges of his fingertips, and exhaustion washed over him like a latent drug dosage. Jack suddenly couldn’t keep his head up. There was a dark s̻̺h̴͔͕̠̣͚̥a̰͢d͚̝̞̱̺͙ow̳̥̮͔ͅ ͙b͚̘̫͍̜e̬̜͇h͍̲̜i͓̬͍̤n̩͎̣̘̞͙d͡ ͉̀h̰̜͇̟̠͉i̯̗͖̬̬̹m,̢͈ ͎̰͈͚̮͖o҉̝̻̝n̷ t̴h͖͇̀e͔̠̤̘̺̦ ̛̥͍͙̮w͇̰̜̣̲̺͡a̶͓̱̗̦̩l̯̝̞͞ͅl̳̥̳͕̖̝͠.̵̳̞̭ͅͅ 

“Jack?” Felix called out. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” Jack slurred. “Just can’t… Can’t get up.” He smiled because it was the only thing he could do, but it felt twisted and weird. “Help me up, Felix. Can’t stand.”

Felix looked almost scared to approach him. Was his smile really that off? Jack reached out, needing help regardless of whatever his face was doing without his permission. He felt heady, like there was more poison in the air than oxygen. He felt overheated and cold at the same time, like he had a terrible fever that was putting his body all out of wack. Jack’s hand could barely stay up for more than a few seconds. When Jack’s hand started to drop, Felix moved forward and took him by the arm. 

“C’mon,” Felix said, avoiding Jack’s eyes. “Let’s get you up.” He lifted Jack out of the tub, grunting a little when he had to shoulder all of Jack’s weight. Jack could barely keep his feet under hisself. “Fuck, how’re you gonna shower like this?” Felix asked, shaking his head. “Gonna have to give you a sponge bath or something.”

“Dọ̡̬̝̝͓͓̮n͈̕'̞͎t̼̣̘̫̘ ̼̞̙̹̳͉͠y̸̲͖̪͔̜̤͚o̼̗̱̳̳͚̬u̶͚̺ ̭̺̭̺̯̝f̴̥̠̜̦u̮̲̖͙͚c̩͍͚̭k̺̪̗̦̖í̜n̡ģ͈͉͚̮̦̬ͅ ͕̻̟̫̱͓t̴͙̦ͅǫ̥̟͔͚u̺͠c̢̲̬̦h̸͔͚ m͙̫̤͖e͚͎͉͓̪.͕̠̖͖̭ͅ”

Jack frowned when Felix stiffened. “What’s wrong?” he asked, especially when Felix tried to pull away. Felix put him down on the shut toilet and moved across the bathroom, as far from Jack as he could be. Jack blinked owlishly at him. “Are you okay?”

“Did you…” Felix kept _fucking staring at him._ “You, you said…”

“I didn’t say anything,” Jack denied after Felix trailed off. “Are you getting sick too?” Fuck, if he was contagious— but that wouldn’t make sense, because Jack was almost positive he was sick in the head and not the body at this point. No virus or germ could explain the horrible thoughts. “What did I say?”

“… Nothing,” Felix responded after a long moment. “I probably just heard you wrong.” He wrung his fingers together. “You, do you need help? Can you stand? Do you need me in here?” Felix looked like he wanted to leave. Jack wasn’t sure what Felix could have heard, but the anger built again. It almost gave him energy. Jack stood on shaky legs, intent on proving he could do this on his own. “I’ll go,” Felix said. “I, uh. I need to make a phone call.” He was out of the bathroom before Jack could respond. Jack was fine with that. He was fine. 

Jack stumbled back into the shower, turned on the water, flinched from the cold, then remembered he was still wearing his clothes. Fuck. 

Jack tossed the soaked clothes to the side and barely focused on what he was doing. The cold water was awful, but he couldn’t bring himself to change it. He slumped against the wall. He was just so fucking tired. He looked up ahead of the spray and saw static on the wall. It twisted between the tile, moving along the spackle. He watched the static move like a snake through cracks in the ground. The light in the bathroom faded and flickered and a shadow came across the curtain from the other side. Jack didn’t see it. All he saw was the static. 

He startled back into himself when a bottle got knocked over and hit his feet. The light glowed like it normally would. He pushed back the shower curtain and saw that the small window above the mirror was black. It was dark out. He wondered how much time he had lost. 

Jack stumbled out of the shower and pulled on his clothes. They were much more dry than he’d thought they would be, so he’d probably been in the shower a lot longer than he’d wanted. His water bill was going to be shit. He went to open the door, but paused when he heard Felix’s voice. Jack pushed the door open a little more carefully, not wanting to alert Felix to his presence. He hoped Felix wasn’t paying attention to the sound of the shower. 

“No, it’s just a fucking trimmer, it doesn’t matter.”

Jack pressed against the wall, a malicious little voice telling him Felix had no right to talk about him in his own house. He had no right to go behind Jack’s back like this. Must’ve been a long fucking phone conversation for the sun to set through it. 

“It’s just broken or whatever, I’m gonna get a new one.” 

Jack peered around the corner and saw Felix was on the phone. Jack wished he had super hearing or something to figure out who was on the other line until Felix said the name.

“Signe, you really don’t need to do that.”

Anger flared in Jack’s chest. Signe. Felix was talking to fucking Signe. He should have known there was more to it. He watched Felix pace across the living room. Jack was acutely aware of the closet where he’d hidden the knives. “You should call him,” Felix said, though, slowing Jack’s anger. “He misses you a lot… Well, no, he hasn’t really said _that_ , he kinda just misses everyone.” Felix smiled sadly at a curtain. “You just kinda left. It’s messing him up.” There was another pause. Jack could just barely make out the pitched hum of another voice. He didn’t recognize it, though, how could he? What if this was a bluff? What if Felix was trying to fake him out?

“Can I ask you something?” Felix said. He glanced to where the bathroom was, and Jack had barely enough time to flatten himself against the wall, out of sight. With no visual, the vulnerability Jack heard in Felix’s next words was amplified. “Why’d you tell everyone not to leave me alone with him?” 

There’s that pause again, but this time it’s longer, and much quieter. No one’s even speaking on the phone. Jack looks around the corner again, but Felix has his backed turned to him. He wishes he could see Felix’s face. Was Felix asking about Jack? What would Signe know about keeping Felix away? It was true that Signe had asked for it, and PJ had known. Did others get the same orders from Signe? Why would she even say that? Jack had too many questions at not enough answers. In the silence, the sound of Signe’s inaudible response on the phone is almost loud enough to be discernible. Jack watches Felix’s shoulders slump.

“Did you tell anyone?”

That single question sounded worse than the one before. Jack couldn’t imagine what Signe could be thinking. At least he knew Felix wasn’t trying to bullshit him now. Fake conversations never brought up questions like that. Jack wanted to march across the room, snatch the phone from Felix, and demand to know why she was making Felix act like this. The other man seemed so small, standing in Jack’s living room, clutching the phone to his ear, listening to whatever Signe was saying. And with every word, Felix seemed to shrink. It wasn’t fair to him. Jack couldn’t imagine what she was saying that could push down Felix’s shoulders like a weight. After a long while of listening, all Felix let slip was a quiet, _“oh.”_

It wasn’t enough. Jack wanted the conversation to stop. He kicked the wall, then made a clatter with the door, and then rounded the corner, making a show of ruffling his wet hair. He’d given Felix plenty of time to end the call and hide the phone from sight, but Felix didn’t do that. When Jack came around the corner, he was surprised, because he saw Felix standing there, looking to him with an unreadable expression, the phone still to his ear. Felix wasn’t hiding this from him. “Who is that?” Jack asked, barely expecting the truth.

“Signe.” Jack was surprised again.

“How is she?” Jack asked, remaining steadfastly neutral about her name. “She say why she called you and not me?”

“I called her,” Felix replied. That weight was still on his shoulders, but his expression was clear. He was watching Jack. “You had a long shower, I was wondering if you were okay.” He squinted. “Are your clothes wet? Did you fall in still dressed?” Felix hung up and put his phone in his back up. Jack took a weird sort of satisfaction in knowing that he didn’t tell Signe goodbye. “Do you need a change of clothes? You could get sick. Or even more sick, I guess.”

“You worry too much,” Jack said. He didn’t stop Felix from grabbing him a blanket, though, because the weight seemed to disappear from Felix’s shoulder when he was doing some menial task. “What was Signe saying?”

“She, uh.”

“Did she say why PJ told me you couldn’t be around me?” Jack went right for the fucking nail on the head, because he wasn’t ready to beat around the bush for this. Felix would probably get suspicious, but he didn’t give a shit. “Weird thing t’ ask.”

Felix stiffened. That weight came back. “She didn’t want to tell me.”

That was the first lie Jack was positive he’d been told tonight. She’d definitely told him something, but Jack had been eavesdropping, and it didn’t seem like it was anything about Jack. She had a problem with Felix, not him. If anything, it was just affirmation that Felix and Signe weren’t cheating. Signe was just beating people down with her words as always, even a country away. Jack inwardly cursed himself for his harshness. He had no idea who he was supposed to like anymore. When had everything become so muddled up in his head?

“What time is it?” Jack asked instead of pushing. “How long was I in there?”

“Like, two hours. It’s eight.” Felix grimaced. “You’re hungry, right? You have to be, you’ve barely eaten today. Want me to pick something up? I didn’t see anything easy to make and you kinda don’t have any prep tools, so I can order a pizza.” Jack almost smiled. 

“You worry too much,” he said again.

“Can you blame me?” Felix looked Jack over like he was looking for injuries while he rubbed at his bandage. “I mean, you’re soaked, dude. You dropped the clippers.” Felix didn’t actually believe Jack had _dropped_ them, right? “You’re getting hypnotized by the TV and you fucking hate TV, Seán. It’s just all so different and we don’t even know what kind of illness you have to treat it. Do you want a doctor? Maybe we should get you in for a checkup or something so they can run a few tests and diagnose.”

“Pretty sure I’m more sick in the head than anything.” Jack was tired of Felix bringing up his clothes, though, so he tugged his shirt off from over his head without a thought. There was this weird block in his brain that kept him from thinking about it as he stepped out of his pants too, leaving himself in his underwear in the middle of the living room. It wasn’t like this wasn’t his home, he could do whatever he wanted. Fucking shitty little disgusting Felix, thinking he owned the place. Felix was wide eyed and his jaw was slack. Jack didn’t pay him any mind as he started to strip out of his boxers too, but Felix stopped him with babbling and a hand on his arm. Someone slapped Felix’s hand away— Jack realized it had been himself. “Wait, fuck,” Jack said, shaking his head a little. “I, what?” He looked down at his bare skin. “Where’d me clothes go?”

Felix was holding his hand to his chest. He looked scared. Had Jack done something? Jack’s brow knit up in concern as he tried to put his clothes back on. He flinched when he found that they were cold and wet. “Dude, is it raining outside?” Jack asked shakily. “What happened to me clothes?”

“What the fuck are you playing at, Seán?” Felix asked. His voice was trembling and he was backing away. “You, do you, do you know?”

“Know what?” Jack grabbed a throw blanket from the couch and wrapped it around his body. He shivered. “Holy fuck, why’d ye’ let me out in the rain, Fe’, gonna catch fever or something stupid.” He tried to smile to lighten the mood. He had no idea what was going on. “I, I’m gonna get some pajamas,” Jack said after Felix didn’t move and failed to explain anything. “Could, I mean— are ye’ hungry? I could order some pizza.”

“Is this… the Twilight Zone?”

“Felix, why’re ye’ so freaked? I’m the one nearly naked in my fucking living room in front of ye’!” Jack tried to laugh, because maybe that would work better than the smiling. It didn’t. “Waitin’ for me to say ‘no homo’ must be real nervewrackin’, yeah?”

“I’ll order a pizza.” Felix turned around and left. Jack stood there and waited for the sound of the front door opening, because he just knew that had to be what came next. He waited for a good three minutes, standing there, shivering in silence. Felix didn’t leave the house, though. Jack finally let himself believe that Felix wasn’t going to abandon him (tonight), and went upstairs to get dressed. After pulling on a sleep shirt, he looked to his bed. It looked so much warmer than his skin. Jack sat down on the edge, then lied on his side. Then he shut his eyes. 

Then he was gone. 

. . .

Felix paid the delivery guy and called out to Seán when the pizza arrived. It had pineapple on half and Felix wanted to gag at the sweet smell coming from the box. He honestly wasn’t even hungry, he’d just bought this because he’d needed out of that room. He’d needed away from Seán.

Felix sat at the table and hung his head in his hands as he waited. His dream from the other night haunted him, and he was only calling it that because he had no other explanation. Seán running after him with a knife, taunting him, speaking with this hitch in his voice that sounded more like corrupted footage than a human being. Felix’s cut burned through the bandage and he grimaced before squeezing it and twisting the skin of his wrist. The wound actually hurt less. 

Felix remembered staying awake in that bathroom literally all night, hunched against the door, listening to that fucking laugh and the endless whispers, telling Felix that he was _“sick, sick sick.”_ Felix tugged at his hair to try and keep his mind off that voice.

He’d fallen asleep on the bathroom floor sometime in the mid-AM, after the whispering had finally stopped, and woke up in the same place. Not a dream, then, or just a really fucking realistic one. Sleep walking? He’d never done that before, but Seán was acting weird, so why couldn’t he?

Felix just couldn’t associate the Seán who’d chased him that night with the Seán that he’d just bought pizza for. They just couldn’t be the same person. It didn’t matter that all of the knives were gone as of this morning (along with every other useful thing you could have in a kitchen), and it didn’t matter that Felix had a god damn gash across his wrist, and it didn’t fucking matter that Seán had torn in Felix’s psyche with his words better than his blade— that hadn’t been Seán. Felix just couldn’t reconcile the two different people, and _they were different fucking people_. They had to be. Seán had asked about what Signe had said, while the other Seán had obviously already known the answer before even Felix had, somehow. 

Signe had basically repeated Seán 2.0 over the phone, saying she didn’t want Felix around Seán because she knew what he was thinking about whenever Felix saw him, she knew what he wanted, she knew what sick and depraved things he felt for her boyfriend. Felix had felt nothing but shame in that moment. He’d done his best to hide it. He’d done everything he could to keep anyone from finding out with no intentions of ever revealing or confessing what he felt to anyone. Literally no one knew. No one was supposed to know. How could Felix have been so careless? How could Signe and Seán 2.0 have found out?

But the Seán upstairs was a different person, and Felix knew that without a doubt. Seán, who was apparently experiencing some serious memory problems and fading in and out between wanting Felix around and then wanting nothing to do with him. It was like there was something inside Seán, fighting for control. Except it was a different fucking person and Felix refused to think of his Seán like that. The real Seán had fucking “positive mental attitude” written all over his whiteboard and drank too much coffee. That monster was something else.

Felix pressed the bottom of his palms in his eyes, weary. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go through that again tonight. Even a god couldn’t explain why Felix was still here without calling Felix out for being a sick, obsessed pervert that selfishly couldn’t give up any more time with Seán than necessary. Even if there was another Seán literally trying to kill him. That probably counted as some sort of mental illness.

Where even was Seán? He’d called out to him just a few minutes ago. Felix shouted his name again, starting to get a little impatient. He’d been on edge all day, and doing his damn best to keep it from showing. He didn’t want Seán to worry.

_“Don’t you fucking touch me.”_

Felix shuddered as he remembered the inhuman edge he’d heard in Seán in that moment. Maybe Seán’s throat had been sore and maybe his body had been doing that achey thing that happened whenever you had the flu. It wasn’t like the real Seán knew about Felix’s horrible desires. He wouldn’t have just stripped in front of him if he did.

God, what the fuck had that been? Tearing his clothes off in the middle of the room, completely uncaring as to who he was with. Didn’t Seán know Felix was fucked up by him? No, Seán didn’t, that was the fucking point. Fuck.

“Seán!” Felix shouted again, impatient. He just wanted to get this over with so he could finally get some sleep. “There’s food, jesus!” No response. Felix sat at the table for a little longer, struggling to gather the will to stand. He eventually did and went upstairs to check on Seán. The bedroom door was open, so he peered inside, and wasn’t surprised to see Seán asleep on the bed. “Fuck,” he mumbled, upset with himself for being upset. He huffed and went into the room just to cover Seán up. Sleeping in boxers and a t-shirt when sick couldn’t be a good idea. He went back downstairs to put away the food. Seán would just have to eat it tomorrow.

Felix went through the list of people he needed to reach out to. He needed to talk to that Robin kid and ask him about Seán’s videos, because the guy hadn’t recorded a damn thing in days. Then Felix needed to call Brad, because he also hadn’t recorded anything either. Then Signe again. Then some house doctor. He needed advice on what to do about the memory loss he was starting to see Seán experience. Maybe he could describe some symptoms and get a straight answer, because all Felix was getting on WebMD was “brain tumor.” Did Seán have a brain tumor?

An hour later and his calls were done, which sucked, because he’d wanted to distract himself for at least three more hours. At least the conversations had been productive. 

_“I, I have videos for Seán,”_ Robin had said. _“We should be okay for two or three days, so long as it’s only one a day.”_ After Robin had freaked out over Felix getting his number, their conversation had been straightforward and entirely in Swedish. Felix had actually enjoyed the chance to speak his native tongue with someone else. It had melted away the stresses of the day until Robin had asked: _“is Jack okay? He was acting very weird.”_

Felix hadn’t been able to give him a real answer and he’d hung up soon afterwards. Brad had asked him why the fuck Felix cared about putting videos up and then laughed his way into fuck all. Signe hadn’t even fucking answered. Felix had tried her three times, only to be ignored repeatedly. What shit luck. Or maybe just a shitty thing to do. Felix wasn’t sure, he just knew he wasn’t very happy with her right now. 

There were no doctor hotlines or whatever that he found he could call for legitimate advice. All of them just wanted Felix to take Seán to a legitimate hospital, which Felix wasn’t about to force on Seán yet. All of those assholes had been so preachy about Felix neglecting his duties or whatever for not just making Seán see someone. It was hardly fucking fair. 

After all of that was done, Felix read the clock. He should be in bed by now, but as productive as the calls had (for the most part) been, he still felt like there was more he could do. He glanced upstairs and bit his lip. Seán was going through something awful. There had to be more Felix could do for him. Seán 2.0 had told Felix that he knew who he was, but that couldn’t be possible. It was just some fucking stupid character Seán had on his channel. Maybe Felix was suddenly having nightmares about the guy because… because…

Fuck, Felix didn’t have a single answer and he could only think of one other person who could, but they weren’t talking. He was nervous to force himself on this guy, but if it was for Seán…

No.

Felix wasn’t going to do that.

It had only been one night. It wasn’t like it was going to happen again. Felix just needed to get to bed and move on from what Seán 2.0 had said.

_“Sick, sick, sick.”_

Felix was sick, but it wasn’t like he could change who he was anymore. He was just going to deal with it like he always did, wait for Seán to get better, then leave when Signe finally came back and never show his face again. 

. . .

_“Sick, sick, sick.”_

The worst part about waking up to the whispering in his ear was realizing it wasn’t in his head anymore. Felix barely had time to react before the knife went down where his head had been on the couch armrest. He threw his hands up over his head and cried out when the knife went across the meat of his arm, the blade slicing open the skin easily. Seán cackled, the sound worse than the laugh Felix already knew. “F̷̤͕͍̠͍̝e͏̠̯̝̗͎̘ͅe̩̯͓͎l͍̥̀s̵͖̻͎̦͇ ̯͎͉s̗͡o̺̖͉ ̣͍̪͙͔fu̠̭̗̤̞̞͘c͖̫k̖̰͉i̡̹̭̠̫n̘̝̝̥̣̯̗͟g̶̩̯ ҉̻̭̭̥͈g̳oo҉ͅd͓̙ͅ,” Seán moaned, eyes glinting that unnatural green in the light.

Felix backed himself against a wall, keeping his arms up. He could afford a few more cuts if it meant the knife wasn’t going to end up in his fucking chest cavity. Seán stood back, putting his weight on one leg, twirling the bloodied knife between his fingers with skill Felix was sure Seán shouldn’t have. Seán didn’t approach. He just kept fucking laughing.

Felix took the moment to actually look and find the real differences. He knew he’d left Seán in bed in his boxers and a t-shirt, but the Seán in front of him was wearing black pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was the same dark brown, but it looked almost worse. Like he’d taken scissors to the edges and done his best to ruin it. His eyes were still so fucking green. Felix had never seen anything life it.

Felix stayed against the wall. Seán still didn’t move. 

“How’s yer wrist?” Seán asked after a moment, smirking down at him. “And yer arm, I guess.”

Felix blinked owlishly at him. “W-what?”

“Cat got yer tongue, ye’ fuck?” Seán snorted cruelly, then stalked towards him. Felix kicked at the ground, like he could push himself through the wall to get away if he just tried hard enough. “Jesus christ, didn’t know ye’ were t͔̩̭̫̤̜͕͢h͇͎͍̫̣͟i̛̻̲̗̤̖̹sͅ ͍̟̀f̤̟̟̬̣̬̕u̹̜̩̞̪̻͈c͕͔̮k̶̰͎̞̼͖i҉̟̰̜̙͍̹n͇g͈̖͖̳͕͔̯ ̰̹̺̦r̖̲̖̩̰ȩ̟̘t̤̙̘̭̮̞̠a̟̯͎͔͟r̮͇̰̖̼̟ḑ̮̦e̹̭̥d.̦̭̘͉̜̖”

“What do you want?” Felix asked, stuck between the way and, and Jack. This wasn’t Seán, but Felix wasn’t crazy yet, so it was Jack instead.The disconnect needed to be verbalized. Jack twirled the knife again. Felix watched the blade dance between his fingertips. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I know it ain’t exactly obvious, but aren’t ye’ supposed to be good at puzzles and shit?” Jack shook his head, then pointed the knife towards Felix. He stood just a few inches from Felix. Their toes nearly touched. Jack was wearing shoes, chucks that covered his ankles— Seán definitely hadn’t gone to bed like that. 

“Ye’ain’t even asking the right questions. Where’d you get the k͎̞ͅn̺̰ͅi͖̞͇̹f͚̝͈̰̀e̤͕̲̳̭̻̼͜?͉̺̟͉͈ Why are you using that u͚̗̺͎̤̖͚͠s̹e̵̯̜̟̯̫l̯͇̳̦̪̭͉e̗s̰̟͖̻̖͝s ̛̘̠̻͚f̜̦̮͚͖u͔̩̠c͚̗̞̮̳̣k̥?͇͉͞ Or maybe even, Granny? W͟h͓̪̭y͘’͏͖̲͖̥̼r̗͎̖͙̭̺͕ḙ̣ ̶̘̳̫͔͕̖y̬̲͔̲͎e̢̻͔̭̖͉̣͓r̻̰͔̠ ͎̰͍̮͞ḙ̝͇̳͍̭̥y̞̬̘͝ẹ̴̳͉͉ͅs͉͖̼̻͚̱̩ ͈s̶͔͕̯͖̼o̸͖̮ ̫̭͙p̘̀o̫̳̞ͅs̷̫͍͙͙̭i̘̥̜̣ti̪̺̱̻̝͇͕͜v̞͟e̘͙̻̜̘͠ļ̟͎͍y͚͓̲̻̪̗͔ ͙̞͚͇gr̝̞͜e̸͙̳̯̟ęn̹̩͍͘?͓̖͞” That evil smile stretched across his lips again. His teeth were so white they almost seemed pointed. Felix shuddered helplessly, feeling like a helpless rabbit being toyed with by a wolf. “Which is it, Felix? Ye’ve time for only one question tonight. Only one. Then I try t’ hurt ye’ again.” The knife was held on inch from his eye. Felix couldn’t move as the tip of the blade took up the entirety of his focus. “Choose wisely. Might get lucky and die tonight.”

“Where’s Seán?” Felix croaked out. 

Jack was quiet. Then he let the knife fall away as he laughed. He was so loud that Felix worried he would wake the neighbors. A low ring was beneath Jack’s voice, like when a microphone screeched feedback. “You’re such a f̝u̳̼̭̭̯̞c̘k͔̣̳̯̭̩̠i̥͍̪nǵ̲̞̤̟ ̘͡w̜̤͇̝̺a̹̥̜̻͡s̬̮̩̥̤͠t̵̳͔̟̖̱̞e̵̼̱͚̥̦͇͖ ̺̻̬̙̱͠o̗͍̺̩̝f̯̪͚̬ ͎b̫̣r͉͡e̺̤͍̦̪ͅa̭̤̭̣͟t̺̮͎̳͓ͅẖ̘̲̦̯͕̖͜,” Jack told him. “Can’t keep yer hands to yerself all fuckin’ day, have to keep touching him, yeah? Ye’ can’t fucking deny yourself cause you’re nothing more than a fucking animal. All ye’ think about is that fucking idiot.”

The knife was back. Closer. It moved down an inch and rested gently on Felix’s lower lip. He couldn’t breathe. 

“The only way,” Jack said slowly. “You’re going to get a piece of that boy is once I’ve c̶̹̠̖̗ut ̛͍ḫ̺͔͇͎̙̰̀i̲͎̯̮̟̹͕m̤̬͔̜͉͟ i͈̥͎n͇͕͕t͉̗͖̱̼ò͚̖̻̳͍̹̫ ̸͎̹̤p̶i̵e̯̖̜̼̝̜̫c͔͎̰͕̻e̷͓̰ͅs͓̯̣̦̝͟.̠̦ myself.”

“Don’t you fucking touch him,” Felix whimpered. The knife pressed deeper into his lip with each word. 

Jack’s eyes narrowed. He pulled the knife back. He gave Felix only one word of warning. “Ru̢͎͉̬̤̣n̴̗͙̜̝̹̯̜.̵̖̲”

Felix bolted. He felt like a coward, but there was nothing in this house that he could use to defend himself, and there was no way in hell he was about to use a weapon against what could very well be Seán. He scrambled across the living room and up the stairs, needing to see something, needing to know the truth. He heard Jack calmly walk up the stairs behind him and took the distance between them as opportunity. He threw open Seán’s door, and—

The bed was empty.

The bed was empty and unmade.

Felix stared at the sheets as his mind worked slowly.

Seán wasn’t in bed. He wasn’t. Felix had left him here, and now he was gone. There was a monster walking around with Seán’s face, threatening Felix, trying to kill him, and the real Seán wasn’t in bed, where he was supposed to be. There was only one conclusion he could make, and it made him sick to his stomach.

He felt a presence behind him. He felt a body press up against his back. There was cold breath on his ear. 

_Seán._

“I'̬̞͔͖͖͘ͅm̷̳ ̗̳̀ͅn̺͍̘͚̩ǫ̲̹̺͕̙t̞̟͈̰́ ͎̼̟S͙͖̹̪̻̱͝e̝̖͈͙͓̰͔á͓̪͟n̨̜̝͉̥.̛̤̱͚̻̻̙”

“You keep saying that, but you have his face,” Felix said. He felt an arm go around his waist. Felix suddenly became acutely aware that it was Seán pressing his body against Felix’s. He wanted to throw up. “How could you do this, Seán? I-I was never going to do anything. I was never going to hurt you. I just wanted you to be happy.” Tears blurred Felix’s vision, and he wasn’t sure if he was terrified or heartbroken. “I wouldn’t have done anything,” he repeated, feeling like he had to beg. “I didn’t know you would hate me so much for it.” Yes he did. It was the very reason why he’d never told Seán the truth in the first place. “Please, Seán. I’m sorry.”

There was a heavy sigh and his skin crawled as the breath traveled across the flesh of his bare neck. Then he felt a blunt pressure just below his jugular— the knife was being pressed to his fucking throat. Felix tilted his head up, trying to get away from the danger. The hand around his waist started to rub gently into his hip. Felix was about to have a fucking heart attack. “Seán,” he pleaded.

“Ain’t fuckin’ Seán.” Jack seemed almost bored now. “Course, I supposed my name is a little benign for ye’ t’ say. Little _silly_ sounding.” The knife was carefully moved back and forth in a sawing motion. Felix didn’t even want to risk swallowing. “Not like I give a fuck. Ye’ll call me by my name one way or the other. _Cause I’m tired of being Seán_.” The hand on his hip suddenly turned into blunt nails digging in to the flesh. Felix refused to make a sound

“Ran yourself into a corner,” Jack murmured almost sensually. “Ain’t much fun for me. One last chance, Felix, ‘cause I’m a generous person like that.” There was a purr in his voice. Then there was a tongue against the pulse point in Felix’s neck. Felix’s entire body shook in revulsion. “Little more for me first, though, Jack said, before the knife was gone from his throat and against the meat of his uninjured arm instead. Felix held perfectly still as the knife was dragged across his pale skin, refusing to make a sound of pain. “T̕a̹̻̠̝͈͘ḵ̥͍̬̩̠̟i͙̹ͅn͉͍̠g̠̟̦̰̪ ̯͓̘̗͝m̪͙̪̖̟ọ̡͇̥r̲͉͠e̶̼̬ͅ ̡̙͕̗͇͈̯o͡f̷̭̮̱̰̼ ͓͚̭͙̻ͅy̻̥̺̕e̜'̸̳͕̭̝̼͖ f̴͎͚̤͓o͚̬̩̦̬͚̭ṛ̨̹̹̦̥ͅ ̰̗̳͡m̨y͎s̘͖e̙̭͉͉̠̗ͅl̶̠͕̪̝̮f̭͖̮̩̳͍ͅ,̰̭̘” Jack murmured. “B͎̫i̪̞̤͓̼̖t̝͔̝̣͍ͅ ̥̳̺̞̰̟b̹̺͓̱̜͖̥͟y҉͚̥̠̞̝̞͎ ͓͙̺͕͎̗l̺̪͕o͔͕̼̫͞v͎͖͖̞̗͈̦e͍̭͚͙̤l͈͉̬̞͢y͖̭͕̱͘ ͚̳͔̞̜b̮̯i͏͖̩̩̳͈̪t͍̗̼.”

The knife was pulled away with a flourish. Jack laughed. Then the press of the other body was gone as Jack backed away. Felix nearly fell over in his effort to run from there as quickly as he could. He saw Jack take a step back to give him room in his peripherals before Felix nearly fell down the stairs in his effort to escape. He locked himself in the bathroom and slumped against the door. He tasted salt in his mouth from his tears. 

Felix hugged his knees to his chest, bleeding into his clothes and rocking his head up and down. Behind the door, Jack laughed at him.

. . .

Jack woke up with the blankets tangled between his bare legs and cotton mouth. He grimaced and kicked away the sheets. He felt weird sleeping in boxers with Felix around. He didn’t want to make the guy uncomfortable. He could smell bacon and eggs downstairs, along with a ton of butter. He supposed Felix had managed to turn spoons into multipurpose tools. He pulled on some pants that were on the floor next to his bed and went downstairs, twisting his shoulders and grimacing at the way they protested. He looked to the kitchen and stopped when he saw Felix had more bandages on his arms.

Jack felt something cold settle in the bit of his stomach. He turned around, went upstairs, and locked himself in his recording room with his phone. He needed to call the only person he thought was sensible enough to give advice for this, even though he knew he shouldn’t say who this was for, explicitly. Jack dialed the number and hated that it was one AM for the person he was calling. He half expected him not to pick up.

_“Dude, what?”_ Mark sounded like a zombie, so Jack had definitely woken him up. _“It’s, like, the middle of the night.”_ Mark yawned. _“Everything okay?”_

“I need yer advice,” Jack mumbled, putting an arm across his middle. The cold feeling wasn’t leaving. He felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, but he needed to keep his head straight. Felix needed him to focus. “Someone… someone close to me is hurting hisself and I’m worried.”

There was a rustling sound, like Mark was getting out of bed. _“Hurting himself? How so?”_

Jack gripped the phone a little tighter. “Like, like cutting, Mark. He’s cutting. I, I have him over, he’s staying with me for a few days, and at first I thought he was doing it cause I was sick, but I’m startin’ t’ think it’s cause he doesn’t want to be alone. I think he wants me t’ help him, he just can’t ask.”  
_“I mean… are you sure he’s cutting? That’s pretty serious, Jack.”_

“I saw one of them and it was made by a knife. It wasn’t on accident. Now he’s got two more this morning.”

_“Who is it? Is it someone I know?”_

Jack hesitated.

_“I’d be easier for me to give if advice if I knew who it was, Jack. You know I wouldn’t tell anyone, if thats’ what you’re worried about. I’d rather you tell me than not and I give you the wrong advice. If this is really happening, doing the wrong thing could make shit worse.”_

Jack rubbed at the skin of his face to try and wake up a little more so he could figure this out. “He… I mean, ye’ ain’t really friends. Ye’ don’t really talk all that—” Fuck, that was giving too much away already. Mark heaved this huge sigh.

_“I don’t think Felix is cutting himself.”_ He sounded right fucking annoyed, god, Jack felt even worse. Mark didn’t like talking about Felix anymore, could barely even stand the guy’s name. _“He’s too fucking prideful.”_

“Shut up,” Jack said a little too firmly. “I, I know what I’ve seen. It’s on him. He’s got bandages and it’s never accidental. I think he’s hurting or something, Mark, I think he needs help, but I don’t know what t’ do.”

_“Oh, he’s fucking hurting around you, all right,”_ Mark grumbled.

“What?”

_“Jack, look, I’m not trying to be insensitive or anything, but whatever is happening with Felix isn’t what you think it is. He’s got problems, okay? But none of them are like that. Just stop being so paranoid. I’m sure all of those cuts are genuinely accidents.”_

Jack felt anger roil in his gut because Mark wasn’t taking this seriously. Just because the two had gone through whatever fucking falling out they’d had didn’t mean Mark shouldn’t care about someone hurting himself like this. Jack had never known him to be this much of a fucking asshole, even with people he didn’t like. “I’m gonna hang up,” he snapped. “Because ye’ve obviously turned into a heartless bastard. My mistake for thinking ye’d care.”

_“Jack, that’s not—”_

Jack hung up and carelessly tossed his phone onto the desk in front of him. He glared at it, pissed off at what it had allowed him to hear. Fucking Mark. Not taking this shit seriously. He’d never thought Mark could be such a fucking monster, but here he fucking was, eating his words like a stupid bitch. Jack went downstairs. He’d handle Felix by himself.

On his second trip down the stairs, though, Jack noticed something new. He had pictures on the wall, just a few, one or two of family and then one Ethan had taken of him and Signe he’d thought was super cute back in December. Someone had written across the glass, though, with a red marker. 

_ithe._

Jack squinted at the word. “EE-th,” he pronounced slowly. It wasn’t English, and the last letter dragged down the glass like the person had suffered a stroke at the end of it. “The fuck… Felix!” Jack heard how Felix jumped at the sound of his name. He didn’t pay it any mind. “Did ye’ write this shit?” Why the fuck would Felix write this across a photo of Jack and Signe? “Is it Swedish?”

He heard Felix come to the stairs. The other man was watching him like he was waiting for a sign to run again. “Dude, c’mon,” he mumbled. “It’s too early for this, yeah? If you’re starting to get sick, maybe you should…” He didn’t want to suggest Felix should leave, though, and for more than just himself. 

“I’m fine,” Felix said gruffly. He was staring more at the word than Jack now, and if anything, he looked even worse. “It’s not Swedish,” he told Jack. “It’s, uh. I don’t know what it says.”

“So ye’ didn’t write it?”

Felix shook his head. God, he wouldn’t stop staring. He looked scared. He watched Felix swallowed hard. “Did you?”

Jack made a face. “Course I didn’t. I wouldn’t ask ye’ if I did.” He studied Felix carefully. “You sure you didn’t do this? Ye’ain’t lying to me?”

“I’d never lie to you about this Seán.”

Jack wasn’t sure why he believed him. Something in the back of Jack’s head was telling him Felix’s wasn’t the one to do this, that someone else was trying to get a message across. Message not received, though, because Jack had no idea what this meant.

“Come eat.” Felix turned and left. “I need to do some shit with Brad today. I swear I’ll be back tonight, alright?” Felix wasn’t looking at him when he said this. “I’ve got to record some more shit just to hold the next couple days over since I don’t think you’re getting any better.”

“The fuck makes ye’ say that?”

Felix flinched, literally flinched away. “Only a few hours, Seán, I promise.”

“Why’d ye’ cut yourself again, Felix?” Jack asked harshly. “Ye’ just sad or something? F͇̙̭̹e̫̫̺̳͕͍e̴̬̯̹̦̫li̴͉n̠̬̟͇͉̱g҉̥̩̳ ҉̯͓͓̻̤w̮o̹̥̞̝̙̩̜r͖̬̭͖͈͔͠t̝͔͙͖͟h͕̤̻̀l̼͉ȩ̞̰̻̜s̵s?̟͓͔̣̼̰̩ Why won’t ye’ fucking talk to me about what’s bothering you?” He stomped down the stairs, following Felix with a scowl. 

“Think you’re too good or something?” he pressed. Felix walked away faster into the kitchen, but Jack stubbornly followed. “People say ye’ve got all the fuckin’ problems, that ye’ can’t be around me, like you’re some sort of d̸͔̗̯i̧̪̰̙̱ṣ̀e̯̭̺̺ͅą̞̘̰s͏e͕͕̰̗͎͚̟. Is that what ye’ are, Felix? Just a b͈i̜̺̞͎ͅg̣̮̮ ͚͙f̶͈̼̦̯̮ṷ̲̘̙͝c̱̥̘̲͉͘k̠i̻̞̰̦n̞̣̠͍̗͢g̜̟̪͎̮͎ͅ s͏̜̦t̝̝̗̞̮͍a̞̳̩͙͡i̜͍͍̮̙̕n̴̯͖̮̦͖̱̝ ͚͇o͓̥͖n͇̠̯ a̡̗̭̩͚l̗͉̖̭̬̣l̵̳̟̘̫͉͙̺ ̶̩̺̣̮͕o̶͍f͎̠̲̥̩̕ ̠̺̰̺͙̹̻͘u͕s̜̯͓̮͍͢!̱̪̜ On m̛̥̘̻̯͙ͅe͈̜!͖͖͎͇̻͎̻”

Felix was against the counter, plating food for the both. He wouldn’t look at Jack.

“Ye’ won’t let me in, ye’ selfish bastard!” Jack shouted, shoving Felix. Felix stumbled over the counter, but corrected his stance and kept plating. “You’re just fucking ignoring me! Fuck you, Felix! Why don’t you just fucking leave! It ain’t like anyone even wants you here!” He grabbed Felix by the shoulder and forced him around. “I͓͉̭̺̮t̡̞̩̠͈̞ͅ ͟ain͙̣̤’̭ţ̲̗͍͓͇ ͈̹͞li̪̪k̷e̠̭̣͢ ͕̼a̤ͅn̠y̗̟͚̥͖ͅo̶̟n̗̹̦̦̭ͅe̷͔ ̧w͙̱̺̬͎̲̖à͕̪̠͖̩n͓̺̠̬͙̩̝ts͏̲̳ ̬̟̟͖͓y͖͓̼̼̕ͅo̹͓u̵͇̮͚—͕͓͉͍“

Jack stopped abruptly when he saw the tears tracking down Felix’s face and the hurt in his eyes. Jack dropped his hand. His thoughts faltered. “W-what?” he asked softly. “Why’re ye’ cryin’? Are you okay?” He lifted his hand again and held to Felix’s lower arm. He felt a bandage beneath his skin and went wide eyed. “Holy shit, Fe’, are ye’ hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

“Oh fuck, Seán.” Felix blinked rapidly and shook his head. “I’m so worried about you,” he whispered to Jack brokenly.

“Worried about me?” Jack echoed in disbelief. “Felix, ye’ve hurt yer arm! And you’re crying! Why the hell would you worried for me when you’re like this?” He tugged gently at the bandage. “Let me see it. I wanna make sure it ain’t bad.”

“God, Seán, please don’t do this.” Felix pulled his arm from Jack’s grip and gently pushed him back. “I’m going to record some videos for Brad,” he told Jack evenly. “Is that okay?”

“Will you come back?” Jack asked, wanting to show Felix that he trusted him. He even put in a shaky smile. “I, I’ll make dinner. Try me hand at real Swedish meatballs, yeah? We can have, like, a fake date or something. I’ve got a wig lying ‘round here somewhere. Pretend I’m a pretty girl.” The weirdest thing he’d ever suggested, but he was desperate.

Felix didn’t stop crying. He nodded. “That sounds perfect.”

Jack nodded and reached around Felix to grab a plate. “Bacon and eggs?” he asked, grinning at the food. “Holy shit, Felix, you’re spoiling me.”

Felix nodded again. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” Jack watched Felix grab his things and leave quickly. Weird. If Felix had been so ready to leave, why was there a second plate of food on the counter? Jack shrugged to himself and went to sit on the couch. He turned on the static and made himself comfortable.

. . .

Felix came back to Seán late with nothing. He’d spent the entire day with Brad, doing exactly as he’d told Seán he would. Recording videos and making sure he would be ready for the long haul. 

He didn’t want to come back, but he’d made a promise. The horrible words Jack had said to him when he’d first woken up were almost too much, and he’d spent the entire day shaky and unsure of himself, which was just a terrible fucking way to be. Brad had come over after picking up on a few worrying things from Felix last night, so at least he hadn’t been alone. At least he’d been able to talk to someone completely sane between videos. At least he’d had someone who could listen to his stupid jokes and laugh. At least he didn’t have to worry about Brad trying to slice his fucking throat.

_“Something’s wrong,”_ Brad had insisted. _“You’re acting weird.”_

Felix had only been able to say that he hadn’t been sleeping well. There wasn’t much rest to be had on the hard bathroom floor without anything but cold laughter and aching wounds to accompany him. Brad had asked about the bandages, of course he had. Felix was pretty terrible at lying. 

_“I woke up with these weird cuts. Pretty sure there’s something sharp in the couch, but I can’t find it.”_

Weak. The weakest fucking lie he’d ever told. Brad had snorted a laugh of disbelief and told Felix to fuck off until he had a better story. Then he’d gone back to throwing bits of carrot at Felix’s head, leftover from the salad he’d had for lunch. Then it was back to work, back to coming up with ideas beyond what he needed to record because he didn’t want to go back. The only thing that made him eventually leave was the unsettling weight of the fact that Seán had just spent the entire day alone after being so achingly desperate to not be abandoned. Though it had been for less than twelve hours, Felix had done just that. He felt like shit, even with bandages and the lingering sting of Jack’s words. 

_“Just a big fucking stain on all of us.”_

Felix had wanted to ask Brad if he was a nuisance or a hinderance or something by the end of his day, but he’d lacked the courage. He’d just packed up and readied himself to go back.

The only highlight of his day was going into Seán’s house with a key, feeling like he belonged and was welcomed there. The idea of belonging to Seán was—

He couldn’t think about that. Jack would know, somehow, and he’d use it against him. Felix wasn’t sure when being in love with Seán had become something that left him with nausea instead of chest pains, but he hated the difference. 

He checked around the downstairs first, then went up to Seán’s room, resolutely ignoring the tampered photo.

_Ithe._  

He hadn’t lied when he told Jack he didn’t know what it meant, he just hadn’t clued in on the depth of his ignorance to the answer. Not only did he not know the meaning of the word, he also didn’t know the reason that Jack had written it for. He wished he knew what language it was so he could at least translate it and maybe get some sort of clue. Maybe some way to protect himself, because he damn well couldn’t fight back. 

Felix pushed open Seán’s bedroom door and wasn’t surprised to see him sleeping. He’d obviously learned last night that Seán being in bed now didn’t mean he wouldn’t get up some time later, change his clothes, magically find some fucking knife lying around, and mutilate Felix’s body even more. Felix went back downstairs and busied himself with cleaning the kitchen. It looked like Seán had made himself a sandwich some time during the day, and the TV was off, so he probably hadn’t spent the _entire_ time losing himself in that weird static channel he was so into. 

At this point, Felix knew Seán probably wasn’t actually sick with a cold or whatever. It was more than likely some bullshit with Jack. Seán always woke up complaining about sore limbs and stuff, and even though he obviously had no memory of what he’d done the night before, it seemed like the exertion of chasing Felix around the house did roll over into the next day. At least the physical evidence of all of this extended past the cuts on Felix’s arms. 

The two nights before this, nothing had happened until after Felix had also fallen asleep, so he wasn’t expecting anything to go wrong until after he’d gone to bed. He did the dishes and wiped down the countertops, then sorted everything that was left in the kitchen to organize. At the end of it, he braced himself against the counter and tried to sort his thoughts.

_“Just a big fucking stain on all of us.”_

Felix wasn’t sure why he was still here, shouldering the abuse at the hands of someone who didn’t even remember it. Was Seán acting out on legitimate, personal thoughts that he just couldn’t tell Felix when he was of sound mind, or was there something else? Felix knew who he needed to call, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Even when being cut and chased and threatened and verbally battered, Felix still felt like this was still something he could handle on his own. It hadn’t become too much yet. So long as nothing else changed, he’d keep running and he’d keep hiding until Seán shook whatever this was and everything went back to—

A hand went to his wrist, and his first thought was to kick out and fight back. Whoever it was was much stronger than him. Felix was whirled around and he had only a split second to recognize the gentle curve of Seán’s natural smile before that mouth was pressed against his. 

Immediately, he knew that this couldn’t be real. There wasn’t any reason why Seán would kiss him like this, or at all. Seán had him pushed up against the counter, but not demandingly. Felix could slip out from between him if he wanted, but like hell was he going to. Felix wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, because this was obviously a dream. When the idea occurred to him, Felix embraced it, and then embraced Seán. He reached up to cup Seán’s jaw in his hands and returned the kiss, letting himself have this make-believe moment. He’d hate himself when he woke up, but he’d had a rough few days. He fucking deserved this, even if he was sick for wanting. 

“Ye’ ain’t dreaming.”

Felix’s eyes flew open when he felt Seán’s words more than heard them. His first instinct was that this was Jack, but— 

The eyes Felix looked into were blue. A lovely, deep blue, endless in their depths and so fucking familiar. They were looking to him with kind understanding, like Seán was willing Felix to believe. “You’re not dreaming,” Seán repeated. He leaned in again. Felix felt like he couldn’t breathe as their lips met again. “It’s real,” Seán told him, almost lovingly, against Felix’s own mouth. “It’s real, I swear.”

“Oh fuck,” Felix breathed, unable to process. He kissed Seán harder, his mind swirling with thoughts. Why now? Why was Seán doing this? How had he found out? Who had told him? Fuck, Felix didn’t actually fucking care, regardless, he’d ask questions later, he’d think about this later, all he wanted right now to was to feel and let Seán do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Seán laughed, gentle and happy, and then tangled his hands in Felix’s hair. “So fucking lovely,” he murmured. “C’mere.” Seán tugged gently at Felix’s hair and maneuvered him onto the ground. Hands slipped from Felix’s hair to push under his shirt, cold fingertips skating across his skin. Felix shuddered and arched into the touch as Seán pressed blunt, harmless nails into his side. Seán dragged his nails down, raising gooseflesh, and kissed Felix passionately, delving deeper into Felix’s mouth with his searching tongue. Felix moaned shakily as those hands trailed down his skin to the front of his pants.

“Such a lovely boy,” Seán whispered. “So needy, so desperate. Ye’ want me, Felix? Do ye’?”

“God, Seán, _please_ ,” Felix begged, but he didn’t know what for. He pushed up into Seán’s hand, not even embarrassed by how hard he was at the point. Seán obviously knew everything and he didn’t hate him for it. Felix really couldn’t be blamed for his body going from zero to one hundred real fucking quick. He’d wanted this for years. He’d wanted Seán for years. “I-I need you,” he choked out. “Please.”

“Don’t worry,” Seán said. “I’ll take good care of ye’. I’ve got you, Felix.” The hand started at the front of Felix’s jeans, undoing the button. “I’ve got you.” Felix’s entire body shook, because this was Seán touching him, this was Seán kissing him. He couldn’t breathe again and it felt amazing. Felix opened his eyes, wanting to look at Seán as this happened.

Everything collapsed in his chest when he saw bright green eyes watching him with malice.

He couldn’t breathe. There was a knife in the hand that wasn’t touching him. It was hovering just an inch from Felix’s side, pointed towards his ribs. Felix still couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Such a lovely thing,” Jack cooed, smiling. “A̡͙͉̱͎̠nd̴̬̥̠ ̣̘s͓͇͈̟͍͠o̥ ̰f̳͓͕͍͇̳̮͝u̯͚̗̗̠̘c͟k̜͇̟̝̞̲͚͢i̸̯͈̭̤͇̱n̶̮̤̦͇̹g̱͈͎ ͏̲̻̪̞͔͓s̬t͈u͙̩p͔̝i̸d҉̖̖̳̙ͅ.͕̪̣̺̳͓”

Felix shoved Jack away as hard as he could and ran, but a hand grabbed the back of his shirt before he could get to his feet, forcing him onto the ground, on his back. Jack swung a leg over his body and straddled his waist, holding the knife a delicate centimeter above Felix’s chest.

“Don’t f̀u̟̖ͅc̹͟k̟͔̙̕i̠͔͇͔̗͔̮͝n̶̯̟͖͕̦̩̼g̸͇͎ move,” Jack sneered. “You think ye’ can just do that? Molest his body? Think you can take advantage of him, think y̲͕͢o͚u͍͝ ̞̣͍̺ć̟̘a̰̞͎͙̭͎̪n̝͝ ̟͉̫̗̞̺̗f̻͎̟̞uc̺̰͇̞̲̗̻k̯̰̰̙̦͘i̡͍͖n̙̱̜̜̩͉g̵̯̹͖ ̷͕͕̗̝ṛ̗̭̥̮̦͉a̹̺͚̭͉͔̻͜p̱e̝͓̮̳͙ ̧̰̗̮͉̖̰h̼̺̦̗̺̣̟i͎̹̫̱̗̗m͜, and get away with it?” Jack shook his head. “You’re disgusting.”

“Stop, stop,” Felix babbled, trembling from head to toe. “Just stop, just stop, just stop, please, please! I-I can’t take this anymore, I can’t keep doing this, I’m gonna fucking—”  
“K͖͕̘͢i̞̬͔͟l̢̳̞ļ͉͉̰ ̪͚̙̟͇y̖̖o͚̣͈̱̼̮u̪̫͍͙̠ͅr̭̙̥̫̩s͎̺͉͔͉è̝͙̯ḽ̻̥̞̻̻͇f̗̺?̶̬̥̻̭” Jack laughed. He let the knife press into Felix’s chest, a mostly harmless pressure so Jack could spin the blade against his body from the hilt. “I mean, ye’ could. Or you could let me do this. Get all of this done for me real quick, yeah?”

“What the fuck do you even fucking want, fuck!” Felix held perfectly still, because even with all of the agony filling his head, he didn’t want to die. Not like this. “God, fuck you, _fuck you!_ What the fuck are you doing, Seán? What the—”

“I’ve told you who I am, I’ve given you the name, I’ve heard it countless times, so say it with me, Felix. A̬n͔̲̹̗̫̩t͚̜̭̯͜i̬̤,” Jack grinned. “The last you could fucking do is use it. Say it with me, sound it out.” Jack reached out and took Felix’s jaw, forcing his mouth to move. “Ahn-tie.” Jack held to Felix’s jaw even tighter, forcing bruises into the bone. “You’re so f͇͓͟ṳ̻̤̯̗̺̣c͉͖̜͈ͅk̥͙̫̫͖̟ḭ̠̣̲n̬͔͔g̷͙͍̬͖̭̬ ͓̺̺̬͓͖̭s͞t̶̯uͅp̨̦̦̱͕̹̗i͖̫̟͚͔͔d̳̬̕.̟͙̗͈̩͕ Give me some credit. Ye’ll say my name one day.”

“You’re not Seán,” Felix breathed, finally getting it. Finally. Finally he could cling to something else, he could fear someone else, he could detach these two people, because they were fucking different. It clicked in his head with the emergence of the new name. This wasn’t Seán. Seán wasn’t torturing him, wasn’t trying to kill him. Seán still didn’t know his secret.

Felix forced himself to breathe slowly as he tried to calm down. “Now you’re getting it,” Anti sighed. “I’d be proud of ye’ if you weren’t such a fucking s͙̞l̙̘͈͇̦̮̰͞u͎̜ͅṱ͙̭͕̗͠. Touching Seán like that without his consent.” Anti shook his head, tutting in disdain. “Imagine if he knew. He̸̮͉͕͖ͅ’̛d̫̙͉̞̜ ̙̮͇̣͜ń̝̙ͅe̺̼̮̯̞̮͡v͕ȩ̘͖r͕̝ ̱͕l̨̮̹̜̤et̰̤͠ ̛̪y̸e̺̟̦’̞͍͕͔̳̙ͅ ̢̮̮c̹̬̪͢o̜̤̹̬̝̭̫͜m̜̟͘ḙ̵ ̹̣̲͉͎ņ̲̱ea̡̭͉r̘̣͈͓̝̯̜ ͏̻̱̠͙̬͓̭h͉̘̫̬̟̫͟im͕̥͉̻̯̥̀ ̶͍̼̠̣̰̜̭a͇̼͓g͖̭̪̮̹͜ͅa̡i̞̭̳̺̱̫͇n̩̙̙̙͓̦.́”

“Why are you doing this?” Felix asked, forcing himself to ignore the taunts. This wasn’t Seán. He wouldn’t let this fuck get under his skin again. “Why are you hurting him?”

“How can someone as slow as you have friends?” Anti asked, shaking his head again. “I’d get so tired of holding yer hand.” He reached out to take Felix’s hand as he said this, finally pulling the knife away from Felix’s chest to press against the skin of his palm instead. “Wa̜t̲̹̞͟c̩̗̱h̩̮͎̗͚͕ ̤̘͉͖̥t̶͚̲͉͔̭̞h͓i̬̲͙s̸͓̞̞ͅ,͉” Ithe commanded, before dragging the blade across the inside of Felix’s hand. 

Felix hissed in pain and tried to pull back, but Anti really was much stronger than him. His hand was being squeezed so tightly that he was worried it would break.

“With every cut,” Anti explained in a hushed, reverent tone. “Every slice of skin, every drop of blood, I̘ b̞̟͔͖͔̬e̛͈̝̤̞̖͚c̖̥̟̠͍̰̥o͕̳̘̫̥͈̭m̞͓̼̳̠͔͔͟e̮͍̫̖͖͟ ͚m͉̤̖͍o͔̗͓̜̪̦͝r̺̘͚̥e̛̩͇̠͙ͅ. I become harder for you— and him— to ignore.” He smiled when he finished the slow cut. Blood poured from Felix’s hand. “And with every cut, I take a little bit of you into this.” He brandished the blood knife, holding it an inch from Felix’s nose. “I͙̫͙͍̼̣’̫̠̭̮m̥̺̪̘ ̩̞̗̩̱͢g̗͍̪̖̤͓̟o̶̜͚̗̖̟͕ị͉̣̦̳̕n̲̞̦͖̤g̬͓ͅ ̙̜̞̖̟t͎̰̯̦̙͚͝ò̠̥̰̗ ̭̭̫͠k̠͝i̹͓ͅl̰ḽ͍͡ ͏y̼̱̳̰̥̬̟o̤͚̲u̗̟̯̺͚̟̘͜,̝̗ ͈̳̰̙͎͔F̞͡e̱͎͚͚̖ͅḷi̙̹͕̱x̦̣̩̥̤͖̕.̱͇̬̦͉͕ You or him. It’s up t’ you.”

Anti’s weight was gone as he stood. Felix couldn’t get up. He stayed there on the floor, trembling. He put his hands over his eyes and just tried to get his lungs working again. His own blood warmed his skin. 

“Should get up,” Anti ordered. “I’m about to stop playin’ games. Wanna run tonight? Gonna hide in the same place? Bathroom, _bathroom,_ every fucking night. No points for originality. Maybe try mixing it up, yeah? Maybe try the bedroom. God knows you’d love to find your way in there under better circumstances.”

Felix didn’t respond. He was still bleeding. His right eye stung. He wondered f he could get some sort of weird disease from getting his own blood in there. 

“ _Felix_ ,” Anti snapped. “Get the fuck up. ‘M tired of playing.”

Felix still refused to move. Not until a foot drove into his left ribcage, knocking the precious air from his lungs. Felix coughed raggedly and rolled onto his side, clutching at the pain. He crawled across the floor to get away from the shadow looming above him. Anti followed him with casual steps, stalking him like Felix was his prey. Felix felt more like a toy than an animal, though.

“Lucky you’ve survived this long,” Anti told him with an audible sneer. “Waste of my _fucking—_ “

Felix kicked out, hitting Anti hard in the knee with the sole of his shoe. Anti hit the ground hard and Felix was running, but he didn’t go for the bathroom. He ran straight out of that fucking house and into the wet, cold streets.

Felix ran down the empty road and only stopped when he slipped and lost his footing entirely on the slick asphalt. Felix fell, scraping his hands and knees. He stayed there, taking in the stinging pain of his latest injuries. On all floors in the middle of the street, rain began to fall heavily and he stared into the blackness of the road beneath him. 

He could still taste Seán on his lips, even with the blood in his eyes. He’d always wanted that. He’d always dreamed about the moment that he would get to kiss Seán for the first time, but he’d never wanted it to be like that. Anti had taken that from him. Anti had taken this one little pure wish of his and twisted it into something disgusting. And Felix had gone along with it. He should’ve known Seán wouldn’t have done something like that. He’d been going along with Anti’s depravity, using Seán’s body without his consent. 

Felix’s aching hands tightened into fists. His knuckles scraped across the asphalt.

Felix got back to his feet and cursed himself under his breath for how his knees shook. He didn’t have fucking time for this. “ _Fuck this shit_ ,” he growled. 

He walked back to Seán’s house. Anti hadn’t followed him, and once he got over the momentary surprise, he analyzed it. Anti likely couldn’t leave the house or some voodoo rule like that. Anti seemed like the kind of guy that would chase you if he could. Felix looked into the windows and saw a figure standing in the upstairs window with a hand and a knife pressed against the glass, dark and foreboding.

Felix flipped him off. 

He made the call. The number was hard to find in his phone, and he offhandedly worried that he’d been blocked. If that were the case, he’d get back in the house, get past Anti, and use Seán’s phone. He clenched his free hand into fist again, mentally preparing himself to storm the fucking castle. It didn’t come to that.

_“Why are you calling me?”_

Felix’s breath stuttered out at the sound of Mark’s voice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard it directed at him. This suddenly seemed like a horrible idea.

_“I’m hanging up.”_

“Wait, wait, wait,” Felix fumbled out, reaching into the air like he could grab Mark and keep him from leaving. “I know I shouldn’t have called, but you know I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t an emergency.”

_“An emergency,”_ Mark echoed in a low, judgmental tone. _“And what exactly qualifies as an emergency for you? Help me, Mark, Jack won’t stop trying to hug me? He keeps doing this thing where he tries to crawl across me? Mark, help, I’m crying myself to sleep over the feelings I refuse to acknowledge? What’s a fucking emergency to you, Felix? Because I’ve heard all of that, I’ve listened to you whine and cry and mourn him for fucking months, and I don’t want to do it anymore. You hear me? I don’t care if he said something that made you think you could have a chance, I don’t care if he’s crushed your hope for the millionth times, I don’t fucking care. So unless you’ve suddenly gotten over him and moved onto the next Irish piece of ass that crosses your mind, I’m pretty sure whatever fucking emergency you’ve made up for yourself isn’t legitimate. You’ve been worrying him, Felix. I cannot stand by while you make things harder on him.”_

“Do you ever sleepwalk?” Felix asked, deciding to just ignore the accusations and barrel forward. He was starting to shiver from the cold rain and he didn’t want his phone to frizz out from the water. “Has Amy ever described you sleepwalking or saying or doing stuff in your sleep? Weird stuff?”

Mark paused, then sighed heavily. _“I don’t sleepwalk, Felix.”_

“But you wouldn’t know that,” Felix pointed out. “Has anyone ever described you doing something weird?”

_“Define weird.”_

“Like…” Felix looked up at the house. Anti was gone from the window. For a moment, Felix actually felt a little relieved Seán’s body was basically being possessed, rather than Anti being some copy. It meant that Felix didn’t have to worry for Seán’s safety in the middle of this. After all, why would Anti hurt the vessel? “Like, getting a knife and trying to hurt people.”

_“Getting a knife? Felix, what the fuck?”_  
“I know it sounds crazy, please, I just need an answer.”

_“I’m not a fucking sociopath like you.”_

Felix only barely flinched at that. “Seán’s sick,” he said, hating how his voice caught at the end. “He, he’s very sick. There’s something inside of him making him do really bad things and I just want to know if you’re experiencing the same thing.”

_“Why the fuck would I be sick with the same thing he has?”_ Mark demanded angrily. _“You’re not making any sense!”_

“Do you ever feel like Darkiplier could be real?” Felix feels stupid for asking that. He feels even more stupid with the silence that follows. “Like, do you ever get thoughts? Or say things without remembering you said them? Or, or try to actually hurt people? Like that ego you created does? D-do you ever think he could be real?”

_“Felix,”_ Mark said in a too-patient tone. _“I know I started out pretty unfairly with you in this conversation, so I would like to apologize before saying that I’m beginning to think you need help. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe… Felix, are you hurting yourself? You can tell me._ ”

Jesus christ, if Felix actually _was_ hurting himself, Mark would be the last person he’d tell, especially after this conversation. 

“I need you to just skip the whole part where you call me crazy and tell me if you’ve ever felt like Darkiplier was a real person inside your head, trying to make you hurt people.”

_“No, Felix. I, I’ve never felt that. You need—”_

“Don’t you dare call me crazy,” Felix said. “I’m not the only one who’s seen this.” A few things suddenly clicked. “Signe and PJ both had to fucking leave because of this, okay? I’m not the only one.” It made sense that this was what Signe and PJ had been so scared of. He remembered seeing a cut on the back of Signe’s neck and remembered the harrowed, terrified look in PJ’s eyes. They knew about Anti, they just hadn’t believed it was real. Or maybe they had, and they’d been too scared to reach out and fight.

_“Felix, you have got to be fucking—“_ He hung up on Mark. He didn’t blame Mark for how he’d reacted. Felix was sure he would’ve been the same way, except now he knew better.

Felix looked up at the house with newfound purpose. 

Seán had been abandoned by two people so far, left to the monster that was in his head. Felix was not about to do what they had done. He was going to stand his ground and get that fucker out of Seán however he could.

“Fuck it,” Felix said to himself before going to his car to actually get some sleep for the first time in days.

. . . 

Jack startled awake to the sound of Felix coming into the house and the door slamming shut. He groaned in pain as his body protested all movement when he tried to see what time it was. The groaned turned into a yelp, though, when his entire leg seized up with the worst muscle cramp he’d had in his life. Jack curled into a ball, clutching feebly at the leg and kneading the muscle to try and get it to let up. He became a whimpering mess as the pain refused to cease and even began to spread.

“Seán?”

Jack whined out something like a cry for help. He felt as if his bones were being twisted together by the tightening of the muscles. He could feel the veins in his legs being constricted. The pain crept upwards into his torso. Jack writhed on his bed, clenching every muscle he could in an attempt to gain control over them again.

“Jesus.”

He felt hands on his stomach, but couldn’t pay them any mind past the agony. The hands pressed into his body, massaging in slow circles. 

“You’ve got to breathe, dude, it’s okay.”

Jack let a shaky breath burst out of his body. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it in. The hands continued to work and knead the twisting muscles in his stomach before slowly and methodically moving down his legs, to his thighs and calves. Jack clenched at the sheets. He was nearly sweating from the pain, breathing in short, broken gasps. It eventually stopped, but only after what felt like hours. Jack opened his eyes to see Felix above him, dutifully massaging the joint of Jack’s knee with a drawn expression. He seemed tired. Jack wet his lips and croaked out a weak, “hey.”

Felix’s eyes went to his face. “Fuck, dude,” he sighed. “You good now?”

“That was weird,” Jack said. He cleared his throat.

“You should’ve seen it,” Felix mumbled. “It was like there were worms or something under your skin.”

Jack shuddered. “Don’t tell me that.” He tried to sit up, but felt entirely too weak. “Did’ye just sit there and give me a sexy Swedish massage? Did I miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity?”

Felix snorted a noise that definitely wasn’t a laugh. The hands were suddenly gone from Jack’s body, and he missed the feeling. He actually liked the way Felix had been touching him, and not just for the way it chased the pain away. Jack reached out to Felix and took the other by the shoulder to try and pull himself up into a sitting position. The muscles in his abdomen screamed back at him. He felt like he’d been pulling himself up a mountain with his abs alone. “God, fuck,” he winced, wrapping an arm around his middle. “Gonna throw up.”

“Need a bucket or something?” Felix asked. He was sitting firm to let Jack use him for support. Jack slumped against Felix’s side, exhausted even though he’d just slept for, like, ten hours or something. Felix was warm, much warmer than Jack. He was a beacon of health and comfort and—

“Felix, why’s your hand bandaged?”

Felix tensed and pulled his hand out of Jack’s line of sight. Jack’s heart sunk.

“Ye’ know,” Jack began quietly. “I never have gotten to thank ye’ for being here. Everyone else has sorta left. Robin hasn’t spoken to me since I got mad at him. PJ turned tail after one night. Signe… God, Signe’s just gone. She’ll speak t’ you more than me. But you… you’re still here. Ye’ came and ye’ didn’t leave. I just wanted t’ thank you for it. I know… I know it hasn’t been easy. I know there’s something deeply wrong with me. I keep thinking awful things and you keep looking like you’re scared of me, but ye’ don’t leave. I don’t…”

Jack sighed and wrapped an arm around Felix’s neck, keeping him close. “I’m just worried that I’m hurting you beyond what I can see,” he told Felix, looking down to one of the bandages across Felix’s arm. “I’m worried I’m hurting ye’ beyond repair. That you’re gonna be worse off cause you’re helping me.” He sighed again and turned his face into Felix’s neck. The warmth was such a far cry from the pain he’d woken up to. He felt like he could sleep again. “I don’t want t’ make you worse off,” he murmured. “I want you to be okay. I don’t want to hurt you and I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He took Felix’s arm in his hands and gently ran his thumb over the bandage. “You’re a good person, Felix,” he said. “You don’t deserve to feel this way. When I’m better, I swear I’ll return the favor and help fix you.” He ran his fingertips over the inside of Felix’s palm and felt the other tremble. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Seán,” Felix told him gently. “Why don’t you come downstairs? We’ll get some more food in you and then you can rest. Eat and sleep, Seán, that’s how you get better, yeah?” He put an arm around Jack’s shoulders and Jack felt the press of Felix’s lips to the top of Jack’s forehead. His heart did something weird at the touch. “You don’t seem feverish,” Felix said after pulling away. “Do me a favor and make noise if that thing happens again with your muscles. I’ll be there in a flash.”

“Don’t think I can get up.”

Felix took Jack by the shoulders to lean back and get a look at Jack’s face. He could see the crease of concern in the line of Felix’s brow. Jack winced, casting his eyes down. “I, I just don’t think I can. I’m sorry. It hurts so much and everything feels so fucking empty. Don’t think I can stand but I—”

“But what?” Felix pressed after Jack cut himself off.

“I don’t wanna stay in this bed,” Jack confessed. “So tired, Fe’. Just wanna feel something normal.”

Felix watched him carefully. “How about I get you into my car and we go for a drive? Just go somewhere. Maybe get some food. Get you some sunlight. You can just sit and watch the world go by and even take a nap.”

A huge part of Jack hated the idea. It festered and turned in his stomach like a maggot, squirming and making it impossible to ignore. It wanted him to spit and fight and scratch and shove Felix away. It wanted him to tear back the bandages and dig his fingers into the cuts in Felix’s skin. It wanted him to hurt the other boy, and Jack had no fucking idea why.

Jack swallowed down the horrible hate and nodded. “That sounds good.” Felix actually smiled. He then stood and got off the bed. “You get dressed,” he said, going to Jack’s closet and helpfully tossing him a pair of sweatpants and a loose sweater. “I’ll be behind the door. Holler when you’re ready to go. Don’t try to stand without me. I don’t want you to fall.” 

Felix left and Jack stretched carefully, not wanting to trigger another muscle spasm like that. It had felt nice to say those things to Felix, however uncharacteristic it had been. Felix really was doing him a monumental favor by actually staying by his side and making sure he was eating. He was massaging away Jack’s pains and getting him out of the house. He was a good friend and Jack wasn’t sure he deserved him and what he was doing. 

That ugly part, though. It told Jack to stay away from Felix. It told him Felix was sleeping with Signe or trying to hurt him. It said Felix just wanted Jack for selfish means. Maybe, after this, Felix thought Jack would put in a good word for Felix. Maybe his reputation would be repaired. Maybe Felix would stop being such a fucking disgusting scourge on the world by finally making himself useful.

Jack was tired of the horrible thoughts. He wished he could just see Felix as the friend he was and nothing worse. Jack changed out of his sleep clothes and kicked his legs out, lying on his back in the sweatpants and the sweater. He felt gross. He didn’t really sweat all that often, so the feeling of the sweat dried on his skin made him squirm. “Fuck,” he huffed, unhappy with just about all of this. “Felix!” he called out. “‘M ready!”

Felix opened the door and faltered. Jack wasn’t sure what he saw. He was just lying across the bed, there was nothing odd about it. Suddenly self-conscious, Jack pulled down the edge of his sweater to cover his hip bones. He hoped he hadn’t lost a lot of weight these past couples days. Felix always looked so effortlessly good. Jack didn’t like looking any less than his best for Felix to see. Of course, if he really cared about that, he wouldn’t let Felix see him at all these days. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Felix said, shaking himself from his stupor. “Didn’t mean to— I didn’t sleep well.”

“Couch must suck,” Jack said, feeling awkward.  
“Something like that.” Felix went to the side of the bed and offered a hand. He pulled Jack to his feet and put Jack’s arm over his shoulder to help support him out of the room, down the stairs, and to the living room. Jack sat there for a moment as Felix bustled around behind him in the kitchen and even outside a little. “Alright, ready?”

Felix took Jack to his car, where he’d made Jack a cozy little bed in the passenger seat with a bunch of blankets and pillows. There was food packed in a backpack at Jack’s feet. It looked miles more comfortable than Jack’s bed. Felix helped him into the seat and Jack curled up on his side, facing Felix so he could look out the window. “Thank ye’, Fe’,” he said. Felix went a little pink at the cheeks and went around the car.

Jack wasn’t sure how long Felix drove, or even to where. He lost time as he laid there in the seat, watching the world go by. He was sure it had to have bored the hell out of Felix, especially since Felix refused to listen to any music so Jack could rest. He didn’t say anything, though. In fact, Jack could barely even hear him breathe. The clouds overhead were heavy with bad weather. Jack shuddered and wondered if it was actually going to snow. That was a rare thing.

“I feel empty,” he said as Felix was driving the way back towards Brighton. “I think… I think I’m dying.”

He felt unbelievably tired. Lethargic and heavy. He knew it was a dramatic thing to say, but his entire body felt so drained. He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t bring himself to keep up constant breathing and would sometimes let himself fall into a stupor of no air, no sight, nothing at all. He knew it was dramatic, but Jack genuinely felt like his body was giving in. His veins were turning into dust. He wondered if what he’d gone through this morning was like a precursor to rigor mortis. 

“I think I’m dying,” he repeated, barely able to get the words out beyond the exhaustion. “I’m sorry.”

There was silence, then a reassuring hand on his hip. “You’re gonna be okay, Seán,” Felix told him with more confidence that Jack thought he had a right to have. “I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Jack sighed. The very effort took too much. “Alright.”

“I’m not gonna let you die, Seán. Do you believe me?”

“Not sure… how you can stop it.”

“I can,” Felix said firmly. “I know what I have to do.”

Jack let his eyes fall shut. He was so tired.

“Get some rest, Seán. Everything will be okay.”

Jack sunk into darkness. He clung to Felix’s words even as he lost consciousness. 

_Everything will be okay._

. . .

Felix had a plan. 

He took Seán to bed, tucked him in, then took one of the locks Seán had put on his front door and put it on Seán’s door instead. He then put a chair against it, underneath the handle, just to be safe. Felix sat back against the wall across from the door and waited.

He didn’t hear anything for two hours. His lower body was basically numb, but he refused to move. Anti was behind that door, and Felix was going to have a long conversation with him.

There was the sound of movement. Felix sat up straight and attentive, training his ear. He couldn’t hear anything specific until there was a a rattle of the door handle followed by a rap of knuckles against the other side of the door. Felix jumped.

“ _Felix,_ ” came a low crawl of a call. “What’re ye’ doing?”

Felix mustered up all of this courage and said, “we’re talking.”

“Talking.” Anti laughed. “And just what t͍h̲̫e̦̞̘̟̺ ̞̗̠f̤̱̼̻u͖̬̭̺̮̩ͅc̺k͠ is there to talk about?”

“What you want with Seán,” Felix said with confidence that he definitely didn’t have. At least his voice didn’t waver. “What you’re planning to do to him. And what you’re going to do with me. What… what that fucking knife is and how you’re even a thing.” Felix took in a shaky breath. “And you’re going to tell me all of that now.”

_“Or what?”_

Anti’s voice was a purr, a low rumble in his throat, almost sensual and teasing. Felix’s skin crawled. Hearing Seán’s voice working like that with such horrible intent was the most emotionally jarring thing Felix had experienced so far this night. He knew it could only get worse. “What are you?” he asked firmly, deciding he didn’t have room to make empty threats.

“We’ve been through this, ye’ fuck,” Anti sighed, almost sounded bored. “I’m here to fuck bitches and get money.”

Felix kicked the door. “ _Don’t fuck with me._ ”

“D̛͍̲̳̗̫̗̪o͔̞̜͓͟n̗̖̹̦̕’t͙̼̟̤ ̜͇̘̣͙͎̲f̬͘uç̮̦̳ͅķ̝ ̹̦̼̫͞w͖i͇̲̗͈̙͔̗t̴̥̭̘̳̳̜h̳̼̜̹̖̩̥̕ ͎̕mé̖̗, ̙y̸͕̱̹̣͎̺o̤̥ú̮͓̙͕̫ͅ ͎̖̥̞̲͘d̸̳̜͇͕̬͕i̲͉͓s̳̺͎̻g͟us̤͖̘̮͔̙t̡̮̰̻i̯n͈͎̼g̣͔͉͍͕ ̝̠͚c̨̙͍͎̣̤o͎̟͙̭̝c̛͎͔̺̻͈̥̙k͚̲̱̯̭r̙̹̗̥̕o̵̪̳̳̞̩̠a̭̳͍̙̖͝c̳͙̰͈̪̜͜ͅh͔̠̳͟,̝̦̖” Anti snarled. “I’m here because this sack of useless flesh has finally had fucking enough! I’m going to break out like it’s fucking Hollywood, you fuck, and I’m going to _take this little piece of shit down with me_.”

Felix gripped at the knobs of his knees hard enough to hurt and breathed as steadily as he could through his nose. He wouldn’t let himself freak out over this. Seán needed him to not fucking freak out. After the way Seán had almost fallen apart today, it was obvious this wasn’t just going to be an endless hell, night after night. There was a point to all of this. There was an end in sight, and Felix couldn’t risk Anti getting there before him. 

“Are you going to kill him?” he asked. 

“Or something,” Anti snorted, calming down just a little. He seemed to not have a problems with talking about himself when prompted. “I need to take it all from someone, and he’s the easiest. The rest of you just run too much. Lock yourselves away so quickly. _Annoying_.”

“Take what?” Felix sat up. “Take what from him?”

“E̸v͖͖̹e̵̝̫͔̦̮ͅr҉̝͇y͙̫ͅt̶͔̲̠̯͇ḫ̢̰̲̰͖̭ͅi̝̹̺̦͉̮͞n̲̳͔̖̪̺g.͕̦”

The word was like poison— Felix could almost feel it against his skin. He shuddered. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like fucking alchemy, you _fucking idiot._ If I want to be something tangible, I’ve got to take that from someone else, yeah? Jack’s here, Jack’s easy.,I’m gonna take it from him. I have been, ye’ know, slowly and steadily. Poor little _fuck_ has no idea what’s happening. I’d give it another day before you lose your _precious obsession._ ”

Felix stood. He stared at the door like it would tell him something different, something less awful, something just a little easier to swallow. Seán wasn’t going to die to this thing. Felix couldn’t let it happen. He remembered the way Seán’s own body had begun to fail him gradually throughout the days. It wasn’t fair. Seán didn’t deserve this. 

“What about your knife?” he asked, still staring at the plain wood of the door to ground himself. “You said something about getting it, w-whatever you need, from somewhere else. Is it your life?”

“I take it from you when I slice open y̪̣̯̳̟͕͔o̹͟u҉̳̘r͓̫͍̖̣̪͕ ̢l͕͔̠̻o̬̰͖̘̘͖̼̕v̶̮e̸̘̦ḻ̟̬͉̳͕̕y͈̮̦͟ͅ ̩̬͚̦͇̬̯c̙̟͇ͅa̡͙̠̦r̬͉̘̹̣ͅc̖̝̮̖a̷̙͍̥̩̹͚ͅs͍̝̱̱̪͖s͖̭͔͍̲̕,” Anti almost moaned. The idea seemed to give him so much pleasure. “Just as I took from the lovely Signe, and I would’ve taken from that Sussex boy. Hell, I wouldn’t have needed to take from Jack if the lot of you had just let me _fucking tear into you_.”

Felix saw it, his only other option, his glimmer of hope. “The knife… Do you just need to take from Jack for it to finish? Or can you get it all from someone else?”

There was a pause. 

“… _What’re ye’ suggesting, love?_ ”

Anti’s tone was saccharine and dripping with familiarity, a horrible carbon copy of the way Felix wished Seán would talk to him. It sounded like Anti loved him. Felix twisted his hands in the front of his shirt and blinked furiously when his vision began to blur. He refused to acknowledge the depth of what he was about to offer. He refused to let himself think about it too much.

“You know exactly what I’m suggesting,” he said. His voice was thick with those fucking tears. He knew Anti could hear it. Felix’s breathing started to crumble. He was starting to cry as the weight pushed on his shoulders, but he wasn’t going to turn back. He wasn’t going to let Seán die.  
“I’m going to open the door,” he told Anti with a calm that contrasted his tears like a gunshot. “You… You know what to do.”

Felix moved the chair and unlocked the bedroom door. Anti stood there in the doorway, his hands against frame, bracing himself and leaning into Felix’s space. Anti’s bright green eyes were gone— they were now a complete, deep black, covering iris and cornea and everything. He was smiling crookedly, looking Felix up and down with deadly intent. “Maybe you’re a little less of a _fuckin’ idiot_ than I’ve given ye’ credit for.” Anti reached out and Felix flinched away from his hand, but Anti was too fast. He took Felix’s jaw in his strong grip and forced him to look him in the eye. “You know what you’re agreeing to, yeah?”

Felix nodded jerkily.

“Course ye’ do.” Anti let go to lightly slap Felix on the cheek, like he was trying to be friendly. He moved past Felix with an air of arrogance. He knew he’d won. Felix knew he had too. “Let’s get you somewhere a little nicer for this. _Never let it be said that I ain’t a nice guy._ ”

. . .

_Jack opened his eyes to darkness— complete, black, inky darkness. The walls, the floors, the ceiling. There was no distinction. Everything was darkness as far a he could see. His footsteps made no sound, and he only then realized that he was walking. Sprinting. Jack had the feeling that he was trying to run away._

_He could hear laughter in his head, singing along to cruel, spiteful words, words he would never say but knew so well._

_disease_

_stain_

_fucking disaster_

_fucking disgrace_

_fucking sin_

_waste of space_

_waste of life_

_useless_ ù͔̣̬̻͈̜̗s̯̮̺̮̰͡e͕͎̣͈̹l̯͖̭̲̮̱e͖s̹̹̹̬s͢ _useless_

_everybody fucking left you_

_There were claws in his mind, holding on tight, a familiar laugh and the sting of open wounds across his body. He kept running even though he couldn’t feel his legs. He saw a light up ahead and didn’t hesitate in reaching for it. There was the sound of a screaming echoing in his head, and he realized it was coming from his own mouth._

_he doesn’t like you_

_he thinks you’re arrogant_

_that you’re twisted that you don’t care about anyone but yourself_

_but that ain’t the truth, is it?_

_couldn’t be further from it— you do care about something_

_someone_

h̤̠í͍̝m͟

_you love him_

_you’re fucking_ p͈̲͈ _a_ ̣̖͕͇͙͈̝͡ _t_ ҉̹h͈̲̼̲̟̠͠e̟̱̙̼̳͟t̛̙̥̗̞̭̣i̼͉̥̥̼̬͟c͍͕

_he hates you he wished you dead today we deserve better than some sick puppet like you_

_no s_ ͈͚̜̫̟̞o͖̖͟ͅu͈̠̪͈̙̘͝ _l_ ̞̪͚̜́

_no s_ p̧į̪͈̠̱͕̱ńe̷

_just bones and blood and an empty skull_

_i_ ̶̻͙’͖̟m͉͓̳͡ ̧̜̥̼̻̟̪̪ _do_ ҉̰͇͓̗̩̣i͡n̯̟̤͖̲̗̰ _g_ ̠͇̲̲͈t̤͎͇̩͎͢h̢ _i_ ͉̙̹̩͙s̢̹̤ ̝̜ _f_ ̬̳̲̮͉̺͈o̯̞͓̗ _r_ ҉̺͇̲ ̥ _h_ ҉̪i͍͇͕̤ _m_ ̗͇̖̣͕͍͘

_Jack reached the light and fell_ into existence, standing in his living room, with a knife in his hand that was plunged deep into Felix’s stomach.

For a moment, everything was still. Blood ran over Jack’s hand— _Felix’s blood_ — warm and wet. If he focused hard enough, he could feel the pumping of the blood with the heartbeat— _Felix’s heartbeat_ — through the handle of the blade. And if he listened closely, he could hear the sound of the knife cutting deeper into sinew and organ and flesh— _Felix’s body_ — in stellar surround sound.

Felix tried to say something. Blood gurgled out from between his lips instead of words. He held to Jack’s wrist, keeping the blade in his stomach. Impossibly, he smiled. He looked relieved.

Behind him, Jack heard laughter. 

Felix took him by the arm and pulled him away, out of the house, but not soon enough for Jack to miss his doppelgänger standing directly behind him with pitch black eyes and the most sinister grin he’d ever seen. Jack knew what he was seeing and he didn’t fucking believe it.

The cold of outside slammed into him and somehow made it easier to breathe. Felix dragged him across the frozen ground, away from the house until he hit a car. Felix leaned against the vehicle and finally let go of Jack.

“What the fuck was that?” Jack demanded, his entire body shaking. Coming out of that darkness had been jarring, and he knew what he’d seen. For a moment, all he could think about was the person he’d seen, because that was _fucking him_ , and how could he have been _standing behind himself?_ This was fucking insane, everything was _fucking insane._

Jack paced back and forth on the concrete, pulling at his hair, looking up at his house. He could hear noises from inside, loud and unnatural. He could see those inky black eyes in every window he peered into. 

“Anti, Anti, Anti,” he said to himself, over and over. “I, I need to call someone. I need to call Mark. I need to call the police. I need to call Signe, I need to call _someone_.” Jack stopped short in front of his door and stared at it. He could feel someone behind it— could feel something. The ever oppressive shadow that had been looming over his head was behind that door and it was laughing at him. 

What had he done? What had he created? How could he have known, years ago, sitting alone in a fucking room and dreaming up an alter ego, that this would come of it? How could have known Anti would come for him? 

“Oh god, Signe,” he said as he let the stifling presence of evil behind the door wash over him. “I couldn’t have known. PJ, I’m so sorry. Felix—“ Something slammed against the door and Jack jumped. “Oh god, _oh god_ ,” he choked out, covering his mouth with his hands, trying not to cry from the overwhelming fear. “He’s gonna kill me,” because that was what Anti had been designed to do. “I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna—”

“Seán.”

His name was barely a whisper, but it cut through the hysteria. He turned to see Felix leaning against the car. He didn’t look very good. Jack watched in a stupor as Felix sunk slowly to the ground, unable to even stand. It took Jack far too long to actually go to his side. He dropped to the ground beside Felix and suddenly remember the knife in the other’s stomach. “I did that,” Jack said.

Felix shook his head, though. He was still smiling, smiling at Jack like he couldn’t be happier to see him. Jack finally crumbled and started to cry.  “I did this,” he repeated, unable to deny the fact that he had stabbed Felix, had run him through with a knife and felt the blood over his fingers. Jack looked down at his hands and saw the red that still remained. He started to scrub at it vigorously, needing to get clean, but there was too much. He couldn’t get rid of it all. Jack started to tear at the stains with his nails, needing the red to go away. 

Another red hand placed itself over his, cold and familiar. Jack looked up at Felix and couldn’t stop fucking crying. “Felix,” he choked out. “You’re—”

The hand lifted to Jack’s faced he felt the wetness of blood against his cheek. Felix wouldn’t stop fucking smile. His lips moved to form words, but nothing came out, only more blood. It spilled past Felix’s lips like someone had turned on a twisted faucet deep into Felix’s body. It suddenly occurred to Jack that Felix was dying.

The thought delayed his ability to react when Felix used his hand on Jack’s face to pull him closer and seal their lips together. The kiss was cold and tasted like iron, and Jack could feel the weak brush of Felix’s dying breaths against his skin, but Felix was still warm in the surrounding cold. 

Felix was kissing him.

A lot of questions suddenly found answers.

Felix dropped away. Jack opened his eyes to see Felix was looking at him, but staring beyond. There was a glassy emptiness to his gaze. His entire expression was lax and the blood finally stopped flowing from his lips. Around them, snow started to gently fall, and it struck Jack as an odd thing to see in Brighton. White flecks of snow fell onto Felix’s body. Felix was so cold that the snow didn’t melt.

Felix was dead.

Jack didn’t want that. He put his fingers to Felix’s neck, then his rest, then pressed his lips to Felix’s again, hoping to feel breath again, but there was nothing. 

Felix was dead.

Jack stood. He caught a glance of his reflection in the glass of the car and saw Felix’s handprint across his jaw and the left side of his face. He knew that the sight of Felix’s blood on his skin would never leave him for the rest of his life. The lingering warmth of the blood left him in a daze. 

Felix was dead.

Jack looked down at the knife in Felix’s skin. He suddenly knew whose fault this was. 

Felix was dead.

He knew what he had to do. 

Jack pulled the knife from Felix’s body— _Felix’s corpse_ — and turned back to the house. He suddenly wasn’t afraid of more. What else was there to fear when Felix was already gone? Who did he have left? Everyone else was gone, run off by the monster wearing his skin. Without Felix, there wasn’t really much left to anything except the need to make sure Anti suffered like Felix had. 

Jack pushed into the house, looking around for Anti. He heard the knife in his hand whispering to him, chanting things, saying _take out his eyes, take out his eyes, take out his eyes_ , over and over. As Jack felt Felix’s blood begin to dry on his skin, taking out the fucker’s eyes didn’t seem like that bad of an idea.

“Show yer fucking face!” Jack yelled into his house. There’d been some sort of struggle— the sofa was turned on its side and a window was shattered, all of the sheets gone and letting in the darkness of outside. None of the lights worked even when Jack tried the switch. His hand tightened around the handle of the blade. “ _I’m gonna fucking kill you,_ ” he snarled.

“Su͎̦͈͉̳r̩͎̘ȩ͎͔̣̮ ̡̞̰͎̮̥̻̖yé͉͓̠̮̻’̭̠͍̬̣̖͓͜ ͙̤͈̰͇̰̣a̟̞͍̙͇̰̜͟re͖̟͇̦̬͔͎.̭̪̗”

Jack whirled around to face himself. Anti was oozing confidence, giving off the air of a man who felt he couldn’t be beaten. He smiled lazily at Jack and seeing his own smile on something else’s face made him feel off-balance. He didn’t let it affect him, though. He looked into those black eyes and only saw the empty blue of Felix’s dead gaze. Hatred twisted in his chest. “I’m gonna _fucking kill you_ ,” he repeated.

Anti groaned like he was tired of the whole thing before he reached out for Jack’s throat, but something stopped him. His hand couldn’t go within an inch of Jack’s body. Anti’s eyes went wide before he reached with both hands, trying desperately to get past this invisible barrier. Even though Jack was just as bewildered as he was, he laughed. Having this advantage was heady like a drug. He loved watched this bastard struggle. “The f̸͚̣̠̭̦͔ͅu̱̺̺̯̘̯c̮̣̼̮̟̯k̠̰͝ is this,” Anti hissed. Jack raised Anti’s knife, somehow knowing he’d find no such barrier around Anti. 

“I,” he began again. “Am going to fucking kill you.”

“Fucking try it,” Anti growled. Jack lunged forward, watching the knife move on its own. His muscles controlled his mind as he sliced through the air, only narrowly missing Anti. He grabbed Anti by the wrist and they grappled, using brute force to try to overpower the other. Anti shoved Jack away, but he caught himself on the overturned sofa and kicked, hitting Anti square in the chest. He stood and threw himself atop the disgusting copy, pushing the blade into the spot of the floor that Anti’s head had just been. 

“You’re not going to win this fight,” Anti snapped as he put distance between himself and Jack. He must see the difference— he must know that taking Felix from him had snapped the last sinew of Jack’s sanity. “E̙͔̳̞̝̱v̫͕̪͎͓̟e̖̳̟nͅ ̼͓͉̱͉̙i̜f̛̺͓̗̠̳ ̡ͅy͇͓o̻͖̭u̦̯̯̠̕ ̯̞͕k̻̳̜͚í̻̘͈̦̯̠̠ḽ̼͕͚l̯ ̶̠̮͕͕̪̭͇m̧̠e̪̝̺̯̬̹̰ ̥̜h̺̱͓e͔̲̝̯͎͝r̵̮e̱̦̥̘̘͞,̙̟̟̲́ ͙̟I͎̰̘͔̫ ̛̣̩̫͈̭w̟ó͈̹̩n̵̤̼̫’̲̟̤͎̙t̮̻͖̟͢ ̱̻͕͖̘̱ͅb͍̱͕͚̭͇e̲͇̖̩͕̩͡ ͏͙̫͖̞͎̳g͝o̧̺͖nę̩̟̟̤̪.̱̞̮̯ͅ”

Jack paused and twirled the knife skillfully in between his fingers. The knife was telling him something. Something about the planes of his own mind. “Then let’s finish this,” he said. “Once and for all.” Anti didn’t have time to react as Jack lashed out and shoved the blade into Anti’s right eye. The doppelgänger screamed and was finally able to wrap its hand around Jack’s throat. Inky black sludge ran from Anti’s gouged eye. 

_Pull it out, pull it out, pull it out._

Jack twisted the blade and dug out the black eye, early deranged. Felix’s empty, dead gaze reflected back at him through Anti’s empty socket. 

“Fine,” Anti snarled through his pain. “W̶̲͎̫e̻̪̫̫̲’͍ḻ̭̯l̛ ̮͉̣͙f̹̬̠̥u͕c̬̼̦͇k̵̝͔̹i̯̹̰̱̜͎n̼̱͡g̲͓ ̴̩̼͈f̥̩͇̲i̺̦̪̯̺n̠̞̳̯̘i̦s̡͇̱̦̪͓ḫ̦̫̪͖ ̢̪͕ͅi͡t!̬̗͉̀” 

Jack felt Anti start to sink into his body through the contact at his throat. The doppelgänger slid into his skin, absorbed into his being, intrusive and suffocating. Jack let it happen, though. The knife was telling him what to do, where to go, how this was going to end. Jack sat back on his haunches and focused on breathing through the invasive experience. He could hear Anti screaming, but it was more familiar than harrowing. Suddenly, all the cruel thoughts he’d been having were distinctly not his own in retrospect. 

It ended quickly, leaving Jack sitting along in his ruined home. He felt the exhaustion slipping into his bones, the feeling of a battery being drained. He didn’t have long, but he knew where he wanted to be when everything went dark. Anti was whispering in his mind, taunting him, challenging him, calling him a coward.

Jack ignored him.

He stood and left the house, returning to Felix’s ruined body. Felix’s shoulders and head and legs were dusted with a thin blanket of snow, making him look almost like a statue. An effigy to undying loyalty. A delicately carved tombstone of a guardian angel.

Jack sat down beside him in the snow. He looked into Felix’s dead, peaceful gaze and let the darkness swallow him whole. 

Anti beckoned him.

_Let’s finish this._


	3. .. / -.. .. -.. / - .... .. ... / - --- / -.- . . .--. / -.-- --- ..- / ... .- ..-. . / .. / -.. .. -.. / - .... .. ... / ..-. --- .-. / -.-- --- ..- / .. / -.. .. -.. / - .... .. ... / -... . -.-. .- ..- ... . / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took forever had some bad stuff happen but it's done yay hope it doesn't disappoint
> 
> [here are the monsters](http://wellthisisprettyrisque.tumblr.com/post/171025880275/monsters-for-this-thing-i-wrote)

**PART II**

He didn’t wake up in his bed. Didn’t wake up in his house. Hell, Jack wasn’t even sure if he’d woken up inside anything. The ground beneath him was hard and cold. He turned his hand over and felt stone beneath him, old and dirty like in a medieval castle. He opened his eyes and stared up, up, up. There wasn’t a ceiling above him, not directly. The ceiling itself was hundreds of meters above his head with a giant hole in the center to let in light. Jack was lying perfectly beneath the circle, staring up into clouds. Everything else seemed darker in comparison.

Everything ached, too. He felt like he’d been thrown from a train. Jack rolled onto his side, groaning in pain. Maybe he’d actually been thrown from an elephant and then trampled by it. It would explain why he could feel his ribs scratched the edges of his lungs. Why his eyes wouldn’t focus on anything except the wavering light above. Why his hands were shaking like he’d just been through some sort of awful trauma. Jack winced and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, shuddering out a breath that scraped just a little too close to the edge of emergency. He needed a doctor. 

Jack sat up, still pushing into his eyes. Even the darkness seemed too bright. He could see shapes from the pressure, which wasn’t anything new, except these shapes made sense. Letters and numbers, like the matrix running beneath his eyelids. Jack pressed even harder. It was starting to hurt. 

He sat up, spurred by the self-inflicted pain and the sudden awareness that he hadn’t woken up in his bed. He rubbed at his eyes, then looked around, on edge and waiting for the worst case scenario. Then he looked around again, because he couldn’t believe his eyes. 

He’d been in this exact temple countless times, in varying stages of updated graphics, but it had never looked as real as this. He stood and almost lost his balance as he tried to take in everything at once. Disbelief began to slowly sink in. How the hell could he be here? How could he be inside a fucking video game? What had happened? Jack rubbed at his eyes again, now for practicality’s sake. He stumbled back, deciding this was probably the most realistic dream he’d ever had. 

The temple had subtle differences. The statues where the colossi would be represented were gone. The altar by the archways was empty and last he checked, he didn’t have a dead girl to lay across it. Beyond the archways, he could see rolling hills leading to towering mountains, a different geological layout than the game. It probably looked different because Jack didn’t remember every direction of the map so well. As he took in the differences, Jack started to smile. This dream felt so fucking real, and being in this game was something he’d wanted for so long. Even if this were just an academic example of lucid dreaming, Jack was going to ignore it and take everything at face value. He wanted to get out there to kill something. He didn’t have a weapon or a horse, but—

Holy shit, was Agro here?

Jack ran for the archways, looking out to the fields for any sign of the horse. He couldn’t even fucking ride, but if this was a dream then it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t see the horse, but he wouldn’t let that deter him. He knew he wouldn’t dream up a Shadow of the Colossus world without fucking Agro. Jack was grinning wider now as he turned to get to the stairs and search for the horse.

His legs gave out when he saw Felix on the floor, back against the altar, bloody and dead. 

_Let’s finish this._

Everything came rushing back. Anti tearing at the edges of his mind and his reality, taking his friends and hurting them, twisting Jack into someone he wasn’t. The sickness and tiredness Jack felt every day, the way he’d been certain he was going to die. 

He’d put a fucking knife in Felix’s stomach.

Jack couldn’t get up. He stared at Felix— could he call him Felix anymore? What do you call a corpse? It felt wrong to call this empty thing in front of him the name of his friend. It felt wrong to look at, like he was seeing some sort of cursed image, but he had nothing else to call him.

God, Felix was _dead_. His skin had lost all color and the blood on his clothes was dark and dried. Every muscle in Felix’s body had gone slack, and Jack had this odd moment of surrealism where he realized he’d never seen Felix so relaxed. Jack had always thought death would be something terrifying, something that would leave him screaming and shaking and desperate to escape, but Felix had faced it with this serenity that honestly broke Jack’s heart. He’d never wanted anyone in his life to face death so… So apathetically. Felix hadn’t even tried to fight. He hadn’t tried to live. Why would he just let himself die?

“Why the fuck did you do this?”Jack asked him, his voice breaking at the edges. “I didn’t… I didn’t want this.” He had the horrible feeling that Felix would say he’d done it for him, but that had always seemed like bullshit in the movies. Jack hadn’t ever wanted anyone to die for him. Now the last person to stay at his side was gone. Jack felt like he was crying, but there was no wetness on his face. His throat was tightening like he was sobbing, but there was nothing wrong with his breathing. Jack tugged at his throat, beginning to panic. He couldn’t look away from Felix’s body. Behind him, lightning crashed, loud and abrupt, and Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around on the floor and saw that it was raining. The feeling of a sob in his throat flared up at the same time as a rumble of thunder rolled through the clouds. His breath hitched. Lightning flashed again, hitting the ground at the end of the stairs. The world was crying for him.

Jack couldn’t be bothered to try to understand this, not yet. His friend was dead and it was his fault. Maybe Felix had chosen it, but Anti had been the one to do it. Or at least, some influence of Anti in Jack. And Jack had created Anti, meaning Anti was his responsibility. Jack had done this, and now Felix was slumped on the ground, silver and cold. 

“Fuck,” he choked out as the sky wreaked havoc behind him. “Fuck, Felix.” He crawled forward, still feeling like he couldn’t trust his legs to stand. Jack reached out to brush the face of his friend and flinched away. He felt as cold as the stone Jack had woken up on. “This is so fucked,” he said. He saw a knife lying beside Felix’s lifeless, open hand, the same fucking knife that had been in Felix’s stomach. “ _So fucked._ ”

He picked up the knife, then immediately dropped it when he heard a voice join his own in his head. The knife clattered against the rock, an angry sound against the new silence. The storm outside had stopped. He stared at the knife, then Felix, wishing he could ask if he should try again. Jack clenched his jaw as it hit him that he’d never hear Felix’s stupid barking laughter ever again before picking up the knife once more.

_not gone not gone not gone not gone not g—_

Jack almost screamed when he felt the knife move in his hand, squirming like it was alive. But he held fast, even as the knife began to change. The handle and blade lengthened, the hilt becoming more metal and tampering off elegantly at the end, a hilt forming at the top. The blade itself reached just beyond a meter, gaining an edge of both sides, turning a deep black that lightened in the center. Jack stared down at the _fucking sword_ in shock. It looked just like the newly designed sword from the updated game. Jack wasn’t sure what sort of sick joke this place was playing at, but if it really was his idea of a dream come true, he could do without his dead friend. 

_not gone not gone not gone_

“The fuck are ye’ talking about?” Jack asked the stupid thing, scowling. “He’s fucking dead. Ain’t nothing that can fix that, nothing can bring him back! Don’t fucking say that shit when—”

The sword suddenly lifted itself in the air and crossing lines of light connected, pointing far away, down the hills towards the mountains. Jack knew this game better than any other. He knew where the lights would lead. He suddenly drew an alarming similarity. While Felix wasn’t on the altar, he was against it. This entire game was centered around the revival of the dead. Something like hope flared in his chest, even when he knew it had to be impossible. Maybe this was just one of the best therapy sessions his brain had ever tried to give him. “He’s gone,” Jack said anyways, needing to make himself understand it, even as the light shone defiantly.

_try try try try try_

Jack didn’t know why this fucking stupid ass sword— the fucking blade that had _killed Felix_ — was trying to help him, but he… He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t be here with Felix’s body. He needed to leave and there was no better reason than finding out whatever this fucking bastard of a nightmare needed him to do. Jack looked out at the landscape and finally found his footing. He didn’t even pay Felix a final glance. He couldn’t. He went down the steps and forced himself to see beyond the body he’d left behind. He wanted to enjoy this place, not have it tainted by something so awful. Maybe it was a betrayal to Felix’s memory and actions, but Jack didn’t feel ready to mourn. Besides, he had Anti’s final words to keep in mind.

 _Let’s finish this_.

“Let’s fucking finish it, then,” Jack said, descending the temple. His joy at being within this game slowly began to return as he let himself be swept up in the beauty of the world around him, the feeling the landscape and sky and air gave him. He tilted his head back and let himself take in the feeling of the unnatural light of the sky. It felt a lot warmer than he’d thought it would be. The sword hummed in his grip and then Jack heard a whinny. 

“No fucking way,” he breathed. The image of the familiar horse galloping towards him almost alleviated the pain of Felix. Maybe his brain wasn’t being a complete asshole to him. The horse came forward, trotting and tossing its head back. She stopped in front of Jack and he held his breath, reaching out. Agro felt real under his hands, soft and alive. His spirits refused to raise, though, even with this amazing chance to experience something he’d only ever dreamed of. Agro looked to him with dark, sympathetic eyes, like she understood what Jack was struggling it. He smiled sadly back. “Not sure what to feel about this,” he told her. Maybe it was weird to talk to a horse, but he’d known her for years. “I almost wish… “ Felix hadn’t known this game as much as Jack did, though, he’d probably find himself wishing it was Bloodborne more than anything. Jack’s smile became bittersweet at the thought. The sword hummed impatiently in his grip, and Jack sighed. “Just so you know,” he told Agro. “I’m shit at horseback riding.”

Agro tossed her head back, then took a few more steps forward, showing him her saddle. The message was clear, but she was a lot less demanding than the sword. He did his best to get his foot in the saddle, but lacked the leg strength to lift himself up. Agro let him have a few more goes before she went down on her knees like a Cavalian pro. Jack winced and climbed on with much more ease. “Thanks,” he said, patting her neck as she stood and gave him time to sway and get comfortable.  “Uh, the sword said—”

She heads off completely on her own, and Jack belatedly raises the sword to make sure he isn’t just shite at leading a horse, but Agro is heading in the right direction and it seems she knows more about any of this than he did. He wished he could speak horse just to get some answers. “Just seems a little weird,” he told her. “Is this a fever dream? Am I dead too? The fucking sword keeps saying ‘not gone’ but I don’t know what that means. What ain’t gone? Me? Am I dying?”

Agro let out a noise that Jack was pretty sure they called a nicker. She just trotted along and Jack hated all of it. He wished he could be happy. Here he was, in the world of the Colossi, and he couldn’t even enjoy it. He couldn’t look at the rolling hills and desaturated landscape, he couldn’t enjoy the beauty of this place and the vastness he could explore. He’d wanted this for years. But now that he had it… He wasn’t sure if Felix’s death was directly related, but having this wasn’t worth the price.

_not gone not gone not gone_

“Ye’ve said that,” he said to the sword with a scow. “But you haven’t said anything else. Fucking asshole of a kitchen knife, wearing knew clothes. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what ye’ are. You killed him just as much as I did, with that bastard—”

God. Fuck. Anti was real and he was a danger. He was _in Jack’s head_. And he’d been the one to bring Jack here, hadn’t he? Let’s finish this. Sounded like this whole world was something of Anti’s design. Jack’s hands tightened into fists before he realized he should hold the reigns to keep from falling. He suddenly felt a disdain for this place that he’d never wanted to feel before. He wanted to love this place. He wanted to be happy. Selfishly, he just wanted to let a good thing be a great thing.

“Fucking Anti,” he said. “Never would have let that fuck be a thing if I’d known this to happen.” A tremble went through Agro’s body at the mention of Anti’s name and he stroked her neck again to soothe her, though he wasn’t sure why. If Agro was Anti’s design, then… 

Agro broke off into a gallop and Jack barely had time to hold on. He held to her mane because it felt more secure than the reigns. She took him further from the temple, towards the mountain range. He couldn’t see what she was taking him to, but holding the sword in the air revealed it was still the correct direction. Eventually the ground lost its smooth grass and rocks began to jut out of the ground. She weaved in and out between larger and larger outcrops of jagged stone. The mountains were no longer in the distance— they were a looming threat close ahead. Jack saw, in front of them, a sliver of an opening in front of them. A cave, dark and foreboding, deep hidden by shadows. Agro stopped in front of the opening— it was over ten meters tall, but thin. She wouldn’t fit. She then went down on her knees.

Jack got off, but didn’t move towards the cave. The sword hummed noisily in his grip.

_go go go go go go go go g—_

“Fuck off.” Jack couldn’t explain the feeling that came from the cave. It felt like a sort of false security, like how medics would lie to dying soldiers, pretending they were going to survive. A fake peace came from the cave like a rhythmic breathing of a monster. He held the blade tighter, suddenly comforted by its presence. At least he could defend himself, even if he didn’t know the first thing about legitimate combat. That wasn’t a comforting thought.

“Don’t wanna go in there,” he told the air. “Something… it’s wrong.” He could just barely see a set of stairs that led deeper into the darkness, the entire thing barely a meter wide.

_gogogogogogogogo_

Jack relaxed his grip and summoned any sort of courage he could have left. He didn’t know why he needed to descend and face whatever the fuck was making him feel like he was waiting to be admitted to hospice, but he had no other purpose. 

“It’s just a game,” he told himself firmly, even if he didn’t believe it. Agro made a noise behind him. “Isn’t it?” he asked her. She looked at him with those wise eyes and he had the feeling she was telling him he was an idiot. He smiled shakily. “Down I go, Agro. If I’m not back in ten minutes… wait longer.” He moved to his side and went into the crevice, heading down the stairs. His eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly. The stairs just kept going, and the air became stagnant the further down he went. It was wet and cold and he worried of slipping and falling endlessly down the stairs until he snapped his neck and decayed uselessly at the bottom of the steps, wherever they led. Jack pushed the horrible thought away. He reached the bottom of the stairs without falling. He saw a small corridor that blew open to a huge room.

 Jack stepped into the cavern and looked up at the huge, broken ceiling. There were carvings on the wall, ancient geometric patterns that Shadow of the Colossus always had. Jack put his hand out to one of the carvings. The wall was damp, but when he pulled his hand back, he saw that the wetness on his hand was far too dark to be water. A chill went down his spine and he quickly wiped his palm off on the thigh of his pants. He went deeper into the cavern, to where the floor carved upwards, like stacked pedestals. There was a mess of cloth atop the highest pedestal, black satin, shapeless and still on the ground. 

The closer he got to the cloth, the more stale the air became. The cloth moved slightly, like the barest breeze had pushed it over. Jack stopped, though, because the air wasn’t moving down here at all. 

The cloth began to lift into the air at a central point, like it was attached to a piece of string, slowly dragging upwards. The whole thing was like a huge sheet and twisted in the air. The pointed center bent towards him like a snake. Then, in a flurry of movement, it fell back, twisted the bottom open, and revealed a huge, green, unblinking eye. The cloth twisted open towards him, glinting at the edges, like a giant squid trying to eat him. Jack backed up down the pedestals, barely noticing a pale blue light that suddenly shone behind him. As the thing advanced, Jack turned to run— he ran right into a wall of light, pushing through like breaching the surface of a lake. 

_He came through the light into his living room. Jack stumbled, rearing back from the panic he’d felt from nearly being devoured by the stupid black sheet with a fucking eyeball. At least he had the wherewithal to recognize his own house, but how the fuck had he gotten here? Everything felt off kilter— the place wasn’t cold or warm, the room felt like nothing. All the colors were empty and the depth of the room was lacking, like a 3d model instead of the real thing. Jack was so caught up in what was different that he didn’t notice what was absolutely fucking wrong._

_He saw Felix backed up against the wall by someone that looked exactly like Jack, but decidedly wasn’t him. Jack saw Anti was holding a knife, but realized he didn’t have his own sword when he went to stab the fucker in the back._

_How dare Anti threaten Felix. How dare he put that knife to Felix’s throat. Anti was talking to Felix in a murmur, low and almost sensual. Jack bristled. He reached out to try and yank Anti away from Felix, but his hand went through the doppelgänger like he was air. “Fuck,” Jack cursed, throwing his hand about through everything. He couldn’t touch anyone._ He couldn’t help Felix. _Jack leaned in closer, wanting to hear what the bastard was saying._

 _“Ye’ want me to sing some_ b̩̩̘̜͇̜͢ _u_ l͟l̬̲͖̻s͖͕͢ͅh̤̩i͏̖͕̦̠t̗̟̀ _to ye?_ P̟r̭a̻͕̹̞̞i̖̪ _s_ ͙̲̟ͅę̞͍͎̟̖ ͓͕y͉͖͕̹͔ _o_ ̺̰͉̺̭͘u̷͍̹ ̶̮ _f_ ҉ _o_ ͓̻͘r̡̪͇̯̜̭̪ _b_ ͏̪̝̗͎͙̩ḙ̶i̘̠̹̱͇͎n͇̜͎̞̱̘͎g̣̙̻͔̝̝͓ ̪̖͕ _b_ ͏͈͙͔r̩̭̼̰̩̤̭͞a̲̙̳͠v̠͕̣̣̞̙̭̕ _e_ ̲͔̼̟͚?̛̻̠͕͕̼ͅ ̡͓ _Honestly can’t figure out why you’re doing this. Ain’t like you’re gonna survive it to get laid.”_

_Jack watched Felix’s jaw tighten, before the Swede said, “shut up and do it.” Jack became hyperaware again of the knife Anti was holding. It trailed down Felix’s body, following every curve of his torso, and stopping with the sharp point of the blade pointed into Felix’s stomach. Jack suddenly felt sick as he realized what he was watching._

_“Wow,” Anti almost_ purred _, the sick fucking bastard. “Guess someone’s feeling mighty fucking s_ ̧̖͚̘̝͎ _u_ ̷̺͍i̗͈̫͉̲ _c_ ̣͔͖͓͙ͅḭ̢ḑ̫̹̪a̪̬ _l_ ͚̖͔ _. About damn time, if ye’ ask me. Always thought ye’ better off dead.” Something changed in Felix’s eyes when Anti said that, something tired and resigned. Jack wanted to grab Felix by the shoulders and yell into his face, tell him not to do this, tell him his life was worth something, worth more than this stupid decision. Jack didn’t want Felix dead and Anti was a  greedy bastard that just wanted to see the pain come over Felix’s face._

_“Don’t do this,” Jack told Felix uselessly, shaking his head as Anti moved the knife in slow, teasing circles against Felix’s body. “Don’t do this, please. All I wanted was for you to be there when I woke up. Please don’t—”_

_“I told you to do it,” Felix said, saving face, somehow unafraid of death._

_“Just, just level with me,” Anti prompted. “I know ye’ love him, in that sick little way you love, but tell me… Getting nothing from this, getting no reward._ I̹̹̬̼ _s_ ̼̫͘ _i_ ͈̖͍͉͖͚͈t͍̠̯͈͓͟ ̬͕a̘̳͔͈l̮̼̥ḷ̷͇̻̣̜̳̬ _r_ ҉e̼̭̮a͟ _l_ ̥̠̻̰̹͚͜ _l_ ͔͚͚͜y̗̫̣ ͢ _w_ ͕͙̤̲̩̕ _o_ ̶͙͓͇͕͖͍̟ _r_ ̣͙̲̤̳t̞̩́ḥ̠̭ ͎̣̜͓͎̭̦d̥̗̙ý̖̬̰̮̗̭ị̼͎̳͖̣n̢̲͉̳̜g͉ ͓ _f_ ͚͈̫̕o̯̯̝̗̻͇̳ _r_ ͓̗͔̲̩̹͘ _? You understand what you’re about to lose, yeah? Not only no more Jack, but no more greasy food, no more sunsets, no more wasted mornings lying in bed for absolutely fucking nothing.” The knife trailed up and down Felix’s hip now. Jack hated the way Anti was touching him. “You’re giving up everything for nothing. Why’s that?”_

_Felix looked Anti dead in the eye. “I’m doing this so Seán can have all that greasy good and sunsets and wasted mornings. I’m losing it so he can have it. What more do you fucking want?”_

_Jack’s eyes went wide in horror. Was Felix doing this because…_

_“I could always kill him after I kill you,” Anti said. “Nothing keeps me from just strangling him with my bare hands. Nothing stops me from going back on my word.” Anti grinned maliciously and the knife settled over Felix’s stomach. “For all you know? This sacrifice?_ I̼̙̬̘͎̫͎t̻’̡̯̫̩s̞̗͈̪ ͔̻̼͎͔̺́ͅa̘̣̬̬̰͟ͅl̜̝̥l͏̰̯̖͍̻͔ ͔̪̞̜͇f̝̥͉u̖͉͔̙ _c_ ͚̝̳͠k̪i̸̘̤͈̲̗n̴̫̙̰̖̩̼ _g_ ̤̻̟̺͕̳ ̯̘̪̙́w̴a̟̹s̹͓̳̮̭̟̙ _t_ ͇̮̫̺͉̹͍́e̳̫͇̤d͏̹.͓̰͓̝͓͉̗͠ _”_

 _That was when Felix finally showed a hint of fear, and when Anti chose to drive the knife deep into Felix’s stomach. The pain washed away the fear and Felix bent over with the shock of having a_ fucking knife inside his body _. Jack reached out on instinct, want to help Felix, keep him up, pull the knife out, but his hand went through Felix like he was a ghost already. There was a sound of a sob, and Jack realized it came from him. Both of him. The Jack he was now, and the Jack that suddenly woke up holding the knife that was inside his friend._

 _Felix choked on his blood. He held Jack’s wrist and impossibly smiled. “Get up,” Felix whispered, something Jack couldn’t remember him having said before. “Get up, Seán, get up, up, you have to get up, you_ have to get _—“_

_up up up up up up_

Jack’s eyes focused on the cave in full color as razor wire wrapped around his limbs and held him tight. The both unfurled above him and descended, the eye boring into his soul. The cloth spun and stood above him like a tent. The pupil opened like a mouth.

_upupupupupupup_

Jack tore his arm free and shoved the sword upwards into the mouth. Whatever this fucking thing was scremed and released him, furling and twisting back up towards the ceiling, flying away. Jack scrambled to his feet and ran for it, back to the stairs. His heart was still pounding from what he’d seen and he didn’t know if he was supposed to fight this thing or survive. 

_turn around turn around go back turn around_

The sword was trying to be helpful, Jack knew that, but he was terrified. The cloth was suddenly between Jack and the exit, moving silently and quickly like a ghost under a sheet. It unfurled again and the eye stared into Jack, bleeding from the center. It seemed angry. It flew at him again, and when Jack held the sword up, the wires that came from the eye latched onto the blade, trying to wrench it from Jack’s grip. 

“Fuck of!” Jack shouted, holding tightly. The wires flung the sword and Jack with it. He hit a wall hard enough to knock the wind from his chest and slid to the ground, dazed. Then the wires were at him again. Jack dropped to his side as the rock behind him exploded into slivers. Jesus christ, this thing was trying to kill him. Jack got up to run for the exit again, but the sword angrily told him to _stop stop stop fight fight fight_ , and how the fuck was Jack supposed to fight this thing? “It’s a fucking ghost with fishing wire!” Jack shouted as he just kept running, strafing, trying to employ everything he had learned from playing games to survive this bullshit. “How the fuck do I—”

_the eye the eye the eye_

Jack turned on his heel. The cloth unfurled and the eye revealed itself. It needed to expose the eye to attack him, Jack could see that. He drove the sword into the pupil again and heard the thing let out some sort of scream with the screech of wire. It tried to close itself with Jack inside, so he tore through the cloth itself with the blade and leaped out while he still could. The thing spun wildly, jettisoning off to the ceiling like it was confused and hitting the top hard enough to make the foundations shake. It unfurled and dropped, spinning with its wire and edges opened, directly overhead. Jack dropped to his knees, ducked his head, and held the sword directly above, praying he wasn’t about to be eaten by a demented satin starfish. Something hit the sword and a scream filled the air, fuzzing out Jack’s vision. Then he was enveloped in darkness, satin falling to rest gently across him, wire lying uselessly on the ground. He lifted his head and saw the eyeball completely impaled, the iris glassy with death. 

“Oh fuck, thank you,” Jack choked out, tossing the damn thing aside and off the sword. He crawled away on his hands and knees, needing distance from it. The sword hummed triumphantly.

_take his eyes take his eye take his eye_

“It’s fuckin’ huge, how would I—”

Jack cut himself off when he saw something inside the mouth of the pupil, something skin tone and horrifyingly like a face. Jack wanted to throw up, first and foremost, and mostly because the adrenaline was finally beginning to fade and he was beginning to realize he’d just fought a monster for his life. Jack dropped the sword and tugged at his hair. “Holy shit.” The sword rattled on the ground unhappily. He resisted the urge to tell it to fuck off, then crawled towards the giant eye. Jack grimaced as he pulled open the iris. The thing squelched underneath his hands, but he leaned in closer, trying to see what exactly was inside. “Oh fuck!” he shouted, scrambling away when he saw his own damn _face_ inside there, eyes shut, looking serene in death. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” he gasped. He grabbed the sword.

_the eye the eye the eye the eye the eye_

“This is fucking insane.” Jack went back and pulled the eye open, staring into his own face and trying not to pass out. He used his elbow to hold the mouth open before pointing the blade in at the right angle, directly into the bottom of his copy’s eye. He had no idea why he was doing this. 

Bright red blood blossomed out from where the sword point made contact. Jack tried not to vomit as he severed the tendon behind the eye and lifted the orb carefully from the socket. A horrible squelching noise came as the eye popped free. Jack gagged. “Oh fuck this.” He turned away and reached into the mouth with his bare hand. He took the eyeball in between his fingers (the thing was a hell of a lot smaller than the cow eye he’d dissected in school) and refused to look as he pulled it out. There was something disconcerting about gouging out your _own fucking eye_. Jack sucked in a deep breath, then two, readying himself for it. When he turned to finally look at his own eye, darkness enveloped everything as he looked into the deep green.

. . .

He woke up on the floor of the temple again. His head throbbed and he had the distinct feeling of being shot through time and space like a rocket. “Poor Wander,” was the very first thing he said to the ceiling. “This feels like garbage.” Teleporting was the worst fucking thing ever, apparently, and all of his dreams were dead. Jack sat up, grimacing at the way his body ached, though it wasn’t anything compared to how he’d been feeling the past couples days. The sword lied off to the side, silent. Jack then looked down at his hand and saw an eyeball in his palm. 

He almost threw the damn thing. Jack shuddered. “Holy fuck, please no,” he whimpered, absolutely disgusted. “It’s me own fucking—” His other hand went to his face just to make sure he still had two eyeballs inside his skull. Jack sighed, then stood. He had the thing for a reason. 

Jack looked to the altar, then walked towards it, wondering what to do with the eye. Atop the altar was a string of twine and a needle. Jack eyed it warily, then caught sight of Felix’s hair.

The memory he’d experienced in the cave came rushing back, and he was suddenly crushed by an overwhelming sense of loss. Jack’s hands started to shake. He set the eye by the string and dropped to the ground beside Felix, just looking at him. Even for how peaceful Felix looked, Jack hated it. Now he could only see the way Felix had stared death in the face and told Anti to do it. For him. Dying for him. Jack had never wanted that from any of his friends. Now that he had to live with the knowledge, he didn’t know what to do with it. 

_THAT WHICH WAS ONCE UNENDING NOW LIES USELESS ON THE GROUND_

Jack startled hard at the sound of the booming cacophony of voices. “Dormin?” he called out, looking up to the hole in the ceiling. His sight was blurry. Jack wiped at his eyes, grimacing at the wetness. He was wasting time crying for Felix when the sword seemed to think that he could be brought back. “Who the fuck was that?” he asked aloud, wanting a response. 

_THAT WHICH WAS ONCE UNENDING NOW LIES USELESS ON THE GROUND_

Jack rolled his eyes. “Ye’ fuckin’ said that already,” he grumbled. The voice sounded like people he knew, people he’d met and could remember. He could hear his brother in there, and then Robin and Signe and Brad and countless others. Jack listened as hard as he could, but Felix’s voice wasn’t in there. Maybe it was a good sign. “What the fuck is happening?” he demanded. “Is this a game? Or something else?”

_THE MIND IS A TWISTED WORLD WITH SHADOWS REACHING INTO PLACE ONE WOULD NEVER DARE TO VENTURE_

“God, I hate yer fuckin’ puzzles.” So this was his head. It made sense, really, since that was where Anti was supposed to stay. Jack had fucked the guy in real life, now he was in his own head to finish the job. Jack could handle that. “How do I bring back Felix?” 

_THE MIND IS A TWISTED WORLD WITH SHADOWS REACHING INTO PLACES ONE WOULD NEVER DARE TO VENTURE_

“You’ve fucking said that, now tell me how to bring back Felix!”

_THE MIND IS A TWISTED WORLD WITH SHADOWS REACHING INTO PLACES ONE WOULD NEVER DARE TO VENTURE_

Jack scowled and kicked the altar. “Give him back! I’m fuckin’ done with pulling out eyeballs and killing myself like it’s supposed to mean something! Give me Felix back!”

_THAT WHICH WAS ONCE UNENDING NOW LIES USELESSLY ON THE GROUND_

Jack lifted the sword, ready to throw the thing at the disembodied voice, when it started to hum to him. 

_four left four left four left four left_

Jack groaned and lowered the sword. “I’m going crazy,” he said, but at least the sword was making more sense. He’d killed one, and there were four to go. He was playing Shadow of the Colossus and he had to bring the girl back. If anything, he was getting off easy with only five. Jack glared up at the hole in the ceiling. “He’s more helpful than you,” he told it petulantly. 

_WITH THE ENDLESS ENDED ALL THAT IS LEFT IS HUMAN INSTINCT_

Something different. Dormin was the voice that gave clues in the game, so it was easy to think that this voice could have the same purpose. But what was human instinct? Jack assumed the fucking bed sheet he’d just killed was “the endless ended,” so now he had to kill instinct. The eyeball on the altar stared into him. He knew what the needle and twine were for. Jack sucked up his need to hurl and took the needle, putting it through the meat of the eyeball. He was making a damn necklace out of it and he knew he was crazy for thinking to do this, but the sword wasn’t discouraging him and the voice was approvingly silent. He didn’t want to wear the thing, but if this was how he was going to bring Felix back, then he couldn’t just leave it lying around. Jack put the twine around his neck. The eyeball rested against his chest.

“This is so fucked up,” he said to himself.

WITH THE ENDLESS ENDED ALL THAT IS LEFT IS HUMAN INSTINCT

Jack nodded and took the clue. “Agro!” he called out. She came bounding up the stairs, whipping her head, and Jack couldn’t help but smile again. Even in all this bullshit, at least he had her. Agro went down on her knees again for him for Jack to climb on, before heading out of the temple and taking Jack to the next fucked up monster that would get Jack a step closer to regaining his sanity.

. . .

Agro led him to an alcove that rested underneath a cliff. Jack had spent the entire ride immersing himself in the world around him, because he knew this would be his only chance, so when she stopped and refused to move forward, he felt like being woken from a dream. This entire world felt a little like that. If this really was his own head, then wasn’t all of this a dream regardless? Jack shook himself and slid clumsily off of Agro, patting her neck, then looked around. He saw an upheaval of stone that looked like the mouth of a fish rising from the sand. It was a small opening into a cave that probably went deep underground. 

“Are all me fuckin’ monsters in caves?” Jack asked Agro, reluctant to leave her. “Wonder what that says about me.” She tossed her head back and nudged Jack forward with her nose. The sword hummed in his hand, angry at him for being so cowardly. Jack didn’t care. He looked up to the mountain range looming ahead and watched the dark clouds that were slowly rolling closer, towards the temple. It felt like a timer. “I’m scared,” he told Agro bluntly. “Last time I went down there, I nearly got my limbs torn off. I think I’m doing this for Felix, but… What if it’s all just some game? What if Anti’s playing with me? What if Felix is really gone and I’ve just been avoiding it all?”

She looked at him with her wise eyes. Jack felt like she was telling him to just shut up and go. Even if this were a game, he had no other option but to play.

He turned to the opening and crouched down to get into the mouth, holding the sword tightly. He would kill for a flashlight or even a lantern. The sword was a lousy companion, too. He wished Agro could come down here with him instead of him having to carry around the very fucking blade that killed Felix. 

The stairs were slippery with something other than water, as were the walls. When he squinted at his fingertips, barely able to make out the color of what was on his skin, he realized that it wasn’t blood either. His stomach rolled. “Fuck my fucking head.” He cleaned his hand off on his leg again, disgusted by the off-white color of this mucous substance. As Jack went deeper into the cave, it became warmer. His shoes started to feel heavier and he had the overwhelming need to burn his skin off to get clean. The air was heady and humid. It almost felt too thick to breathe. Jack wanted to turn around. 

He got to the bottom of the stairs and blinked sluggishly. There was a warm, red glow surrounding the cavern that was the size of your average classroom. Red sating hung randomly from the ceiling, held up by rusted hooks, and Jack braced himself to fight another bed sheet until he saw the figured on the floor. It was a torso with arms melted into his head and three legs all pushed up around itself like a resting spider. Jack’s skin crawled. He held the sword tighter, then suddenly realized what it was saying to him.

_sex sex sex sex sex sex se—_

“Fucking disturbing.”

He shouldn’t have talked, but Jack was so used to the response of no-one that he didn’t even understand his words had weight or effect anymore, and honestly hadn’t expected the damn thing to hear him. When it made an odd, high pitched, strangled sort of moan and turned to him, Jack’s heart stopped. Then his heart started to seize when the thing stood. 

She had tits and huge hips that had a gigantic eyeball nestled comfortably in the middle, bright green and staring at Jack. The skin of her three legs stretched and decayed, like sores you’d see on zombies, and she walked daintily about on her tiptoes. She crooned softly, and Jack almost thought she was just observing him, until the front of her chest split down from the top of her head to her navel, rows of teeth being revealed. 

“Oh fuck,” Jack choked out, just as the fucking bitch let out an ear piercing shriek and sprinted for him like the devil. Jack lunged out of the way, hitting the ground on his shoulder hard. The sword wouldn’t shut up about sex, and the thing shrieked again, showing Jack every pretty little tooth in her mouth. Then the teeth started to fucking turn like a buzz saw and Jack was going to die here.

Except the eye. Last time he’d had to stab it in the eye, and she had the giant fucking eye right in her fucking stomach, stupidly obvious and out in the open. If Jack could just get close enough, he’d impale the fucking bitch and claim a second eye for Felix.

_sexsexsexsexsex_

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack told the stupid sword before running to the other end of the room, turning and waiting for her to charge again. She didn’t disappoint. She twisted her entire torso to face him before turning her ugly three legs around and charging with a shriek. Jack kept his feet planted, and lunged forward with the sword when he could, but didn’t account for her extra leg. She knocked the sword away with her knee and threw her torso down at his head, mouth wide and ready, giving Jack a horrifying view of tits and teeth. What a way to go.

Except fuck that. Jack dropped back onto his ass, flattening himself against the floor. She could bend low enough to get him, and Jack looked up into that mess of snapping teeth before bringing the sword back in and thrusting it up into the eye. It grazed the green of the iris, and she jumped away with more shrieking, though this time in audible pain. The eye bled like it was crying. She stumbled a little before turning to Jack and charging again. Jack kept away, running from where she would be. It seemed like she could only run in straight lines at a time, like the castle on a chessboard. 

He did it one last time, baiting her and moving out of the way, just to make sure. A grin of triumph spread across his face as she let out a cry of frustration. She wanted her fucking dinner, but Jack was too smart. He had a plan.

Jack crouched on the far side of the room, weapon ready, ignoring the stream of sex from the blade. She looked at him, swaying gracefully like a demented ballerina, before screaming into the muggy air and charging. Jack held his breath, kept his stance, waited, waited, and then, at the last possible moment, rolled to the side, swiping his blade cleanly across the eye and splitting the thing horizontally in two. The cry she let out was garbled with death, and the decayed mess on her skin started to spread, but before Jack could celebrate, he rolled into a soft glow of light and was _in his kitchen._

_It still wasn’t any less disconcerting the second time around. Jack was facing the door, trying to get his bearings as his heart threatened to leap out of his chest. He had no sword, there was no blood, and no three-legged-fucker trying to tear his head off. He was supposed to be able to breathe easy._

_He heard a breathy gasp of pleasure from behind and instantly tried to conjure up what could be happening in this memory._

_“God, Seán, please,” Felix begged. He sounded strained at the edges, desperate. The way Felix said Jack’s given name sent a thrill through his spine, but he couldn’t make himself look. He didn’t know what he would see. He could very well see something that wasn’t meant for him._

_“I-I need you,” he heard Felix choke out. Something in Jack’s chest clenched at the way Felix was talking. Something warm and new and out of place. “Please.”_

_“Don’t worry,” came Jack’s own voice. “I’ll take good care of ye’. I’ve got you, Felix.”_

_That wasn’t him._

_Jack turned around. His stomach rolled when he saw Anti had Felix pinned to the floor, one hand up Felix’s shirt and the other at the front of Felix’s pants. This was wrong, wrong, wrong, because Felix had said Seán’s name, but it wasn’t Seán above him, touching him, making Felix tremble. Jack watched Anti unbutton Felix’s jeans and knew that Felix wasn’t any wiser. To Felix, he was finally getting what he’d so desperately wanted for years. Anti was taking advantage of him. Anti was manipulating Felix, playing him like a fiddle with Jack’s hands and it made him sick to imagine that something Jack had created would ever stoop so low._

_“I’ve got you,” Anti murmured, so sweet and loving and evil. Felix trembled again, and Jack suddenly noticed the curve of Felix’s spine as he arched up into Anti’s touch. Fuck, fuck,_ Felix thought this was Jack _. He thought this was Jack, he thought he was with someone else, this was fucking rape._

_Then Anti brought the knife out and held it by Felix’s ribs._

_Felix froze. Jack could see he realization wash over him that the person above him wasn’t Seán. Jack never wanted to see that kind of pain on Felix’s face again._

_“Such a lovely thing,” Anti cooed, smiling. “A_ ̡͙͉̱͎̠ _n_ d̴̬̥̠ ̣̘s͓͇͈̟͍͠o̥ ̰f̳͓͕͍͇̳̮͝ _u_ ̯͚̗̗̠̘c͟ _k_ ̜͇̟̝̞̲͚͢i̸̯͈̭̤͇̱n̶̮̤̦͇̹g̱͈͎ ͏̲̻̪̞͔͓s̬t͈ _u_ ͙̩p͔̝i̸ _d_ ҉̖̖̳̙ͅ _”_

 _“Felix, don’t listen to him,” Jack said shakily. He wished more than anything that Felix could hear him. He didn’t want to hear the lies Anti was going to tell Felix, but he couldn’t leave. He watched Felix try to get away from Anti, watched Felix get pulled to the ground and straddled by the psycho with the knife wearing his skin. “Don’t_ f̀u̟̖ͅc̹͟k̟͔̙̕i̠͔͇͔̗͔̮͝n̶̯̟͖͕̦̩̼g̸͇͎ _move,” the bastard said, holding the knife above Felix’s chest. Jack got closer and reached out, his hand going through empty air when he tried to touch Felix, wanting to reassure. “You think ye’ can just do something like that? Molest his body? Think you can take advantage of him, think_ y̲͕͢ _o_ ͚u͍͝ ̞̣͍̺ć̟̘ _a_ ̰̞͎͙̭͎̪n̝͝ ̟͉̫̗̞̺̗f̻͎̟̞ _uc_ ̺̰͇̞̲̗̻ _k_ ̯̰̰̙̦͘i̡͍͖n̙̱̜̜̩͉g̵̯̹͖ ̷͕͕̗̝ṛ̗̭̥̮̦͉ _a_ ̹̺͚̭͉͔̻͜p̱ _e_ ̝͓̮̳͙ ̧̰̗̮͉̖̰ _h_ ̼̺̦̗̺̣̟i͎̹̫̱̗̗ _m_ ͜ _, and get away with it? You’re disgusting.”_

_“Felix, that ain’t what happened,” Jack said, begging to be heard. “He did this to you, you didn’t know.”_

_“Stop, stop,” Felix babbled, his expression so panicked that it was fading into nothing. “Just stop, just stop, just stop, please, please! I-I can’t take this anymore, I can’t keep doing this, I’m gonna fucking—”_

_“_ K͖͕̘͢i̞̬͔͟l̢̳̞ļ͉͉̰ ̪͚̙̟͇y̖̖ _o_ ͚̣͈̱̼̮ _u_ ̪̫͍͙̠ͅr̭̙̥̫̩ _s_ ͎̺͉͔͉ _è_ ̝͙̯ḽ̻̥̞̻̻͇ _f_ ̗̺?̶̬̥̻̭ _”_

The memory ended abruptly, shoving Jack back into the cave, gasping for air like a fish. His chest ached with how Felix’s face had washed over with disbelief and heartache when Anti had told Felix to kill himself with Jack’s face. 

Beside him, the horrible monster-woman was dead on the ground, a mess of limbs twisted like a pretzel. Jack took no satisfaction in her death— not after what he’d seen. He picked the sword back up and made quick work of pulling open the larger eye and gouging out his own. He didn’t even falter at seeing his own face. Jack immediately looked into the eye upon holding it and let the blackness consume him.

. . .

He got up off the temple floor and went to Felix’s side, sitting in front of the slumped form of his friend. Behind him, the storm loomed even closer. Jack was positive he had a time limit on this entire endeavor, but he couldn’t just move on from what he saw without taking a moment. 

It was selfish to think that Felix would prefer to be dead, but Jack knew that he didn’t want Felix to have to live with such terrible memories. The things Felix had gone through in the past few days were life altering. Being pinned to the ground, manipulated and used, threatened and even killed. How do you get past that? How do you cope? Did Felix even want to be brought back? He’d been the one to chose to die. What if Jack was doing this all for selfish means? What if Felix really were better off dead?

It wasn’t like Felix had been terribly unhappy, but he also hadn’t ever been perfectly joyful either. And Jack couldn’t imagine how hard it was to live with unrequited love. Jack had always been lucky— crushes were a thing for him, especially when he’d been younger, but he’d never been in love with someone for naught. Felix had stood by his side and died for him and never expected anything in return. He never thought he’d get a chance to have Jack like he’d always wanted. Felix had been happy to die knowing he’d never have to see Jack be with someone else ever again. Was it really fair of him to bring Felix back?

“I hate this,” he told Felix’s corpse. He nudged Felix’s foot with the tip of his shoe, just to see Felix move. “I wish you were awake,” Jack said. “Just so I could get some answers. Wish you weren’t fucking dead so I could tell you that…” But what could he tell Felix about what he saw? That it was okay? What part of that was okay? Jack wasn’t about to pin Felix to the floor and ravage him. Even in consoling Felix for what Anti had done, Jack would have to deny Felix something he’d always wanted. There was no happy ending for him here.

“Just all so fucked, Felix,” Jack mumbled. “Barely even know if this is real. How do you bring the dead back t’ life? How can I even think it’s possible? There isn’t much else I can do, there isn’t, like, multiple options in this scenario. I kill the monsters, I collect these, the fucking eyes, then what? Do I wake up without you? And then what? Call the police? Try to explain how you’ve been killed by a knife covered in my prints, but it wasn’t me? It ain’t like people will just ignore your absence, there’ll be investigations, I’ll end up in jail, I…” 

Jack hung his head in his hands. “… I know why ye’ did it,” he told Felix. “I can’t imagine how you fell in love with me, how or even fucking why, ye’ know? I mean, I, I’m Jack. I don’t read like you do and I’m always loud and I barely sleep and we’re just… We, we’re not unalike, but it’s still so weird for me to think about. Like, what did I do to deserve someone loving me enough to die for me? Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine anyone would ever do that for me. Maybe they’d say they would, maybe they’d get close, but in the end we’re all just animals and it’s a fight or flight instinct. I never thought anyone would die for me, let alone you.”

Jack grimaced. “Seems a little insulting to your character now that I say it aloud. Knowing that you’d do something like this kinda changes a lot. Makes me feel kinda weird looking back, like how the fuck did I not notice? Signe did. She… God, she might’ve resented ye’ for it. She tried to keep you away because she was jealous or something, thought you’d do something.” The grimace deepened. “Fuck, Fe’, ye’ didn’t deserve that. You’re not some fucking dog with no self control, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Maybe I wouldn’t have, like, felt the same, but… You didn’t deserve to be treated like a threat by people who were supposed to be your friends.”

It occurred to Jack that everything he was saying now would’ve been a lot more appropriate to have said when Felix was alive. If this psycho plan really did work, Jack made a mental note to repeat all of this. Regardless of how Jack felt, Jack also knew that Felix would never try to botch someone else’s relationship to get what he wanted. He wouldn’t have tried to break up Jack and Signe. If anything, Signe had been the one to end things between them and break everything apart. Felix had been to stick around to try to put the pieces back together. Jack squeezed Felix’s ankle. 

“I’ll bring ye’ back,” Jack told him. “Or try, at least. Just know that I don’t think any less of ye’ and I don’t think you’re a, a rapist, or any of the other horrible things Anti said to ye’. You’re a good person and you never pushed yourself on me in a way that made me uncomfortable.” Jack stood, letting himself pause. “Yeah,” he said, mostly to himself. “You’re a good person, Fe’. Even if I don’t get you back, I hope you’re happy, with whatever end you’ve found.” He smiled sadly. “I almost wish you were religious, so I could at least tell myself you ended up in whatever heaven you choose.”

He turned to face the coming storm, then called out for Agro. The click of her hooves on the stone floor was almost soothing. Jack closed his eyes and just let himself breathe for a moment. Regardless of the outcome, he knew what he had to do. 

_INSTINCT CRUMBLES WITH THE LOSS OF TRUST LEAVING ONLY THE DESIRE TO FLEE_

“Sounds like a jolly good time,” Jack mumbled back to Dormin’s crypticness. Obviously he was about to face something relatively scary, though he wasn’t sure what could be scarier than tit-mouth the colossal bitch, or fucking razor-bedsheets. Jack wasn’t about to feign confidence, he knew he’d only survived those two fights because of luck. Getting the sword out at the right time, falling on his ass at the perfect moment. Jack hoisted himself up onto Agro with effort, but at least she didn’t feel the need to go down on her knees for him. She really was a beast of a horse. Jack wished he could just load stats and abilities into his head. He didn’t know if he could leave Felix’s life in his own unskilled hands. It was too much of a gamble.

He was grateful Agro knew where to go without him telling. He was starting to have a habit of losing himself in his own head inside his head. Jack pat her neck. “Dormin said I should be scared,” he told her. “Pretty sure I’ve been scared since the day Signe left.” He smiled bitterly. “Funny. Always kinda thought she was the one, you know? I can’t blame her for leaving. When you get with someone, you don’t really expect their alter ego to go all fucking psycho on you and legitimately try to kill you. Just kinda wish she’d been an extenuating thing. Felix was.” 

He frowned to himself. “Felix stuck around and he ain’t even my boyfriend. Why didn’t she? I would’ve stayed for her.” Agro nickered thoughtfully, tossing her head back. “I would’ve fought for her if she’d been the one losing her mind,” Jack sighed. “I would’ve stayed and made sure she ate and bathed and took care of herself like… like Felix did for me.”

Jack slumped. “Fuck.” Agro whinnied in agreement. “Fuck. I’ve got t’ stop thinking, Eggroll. All it does is make things feel worse.”

She stopped suddenly. Jack frowned, glancing behind to see that the temple was still pretty close by. Agro shuffled her hooves impatiently, then even bucked a little, wanting Jack to get off for something. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled, sliding off her side gracelessly. “What do ye’ wanna—”

He cut himself off at the smell. The smell of sulfur and decay was pungent and made him stomach roll. Jack gagged, pinching his nose shut. “Oh fuck this,” he said when he saw the tiny hole in the ground in front of them. It looked like a crack in the earth, leading straight down into nothing. “Couldn’t even give me some fuckin’ stairs?” He looked to Agro, face twisted with nausea. “This is bullshit,” he told her matter-of-factly, tucking the blade into the back of his jeans and letting it keep it straight down the back of his shirt, before climbing down into the hole. 

It was so tight that he could easily press himself against the wall and slowly wedged himself down without fear of falling. The smell only got worse the deeper he went. He’d never been to a Body Farm, but he could imagine that the smells were very similar. The air was warm and humid, but somehow felt more disgusting than the last place. He wanted a pressure wash after this fucking garbage. Somewhere along the way, the air started to move like breath. Jack froze. It occurred to him he could be descending into something’s waiting mouth and he’d never know. He suddenly couldn’t move.

“You can do this,” he told himself. There was barely any light because he was so far down from the top. Claustrophobia was beginning to set in. He remembered stories of spelunkers getting stuck in small crevices from panic causing their body to swell. “You can do this,” he repeated, shutting his eyes. “You have to. Ye’ ain’t gonna bury Felix. You’re not gonna let them put him in the ground. You can do this.”

The image of Felix in a fucking casket actually helped in a way that only made it harder to breathe, but easier to move. He kept wedging himself down, staring up the further he went, watching whatever light was left shrink away. Then his foot slipped into nothing. Jack shut his eyes. He took three, steadying breaths, and thought of the drive Felix had taken him on the day before everything went to shit. The quiet of the car, the way Felix had dutifully let Jack sleep, how he’d wasted literally hours without a purpose just so Jack could get some rest and leave the house. The way he’d so firmly told Jack that he wasn’t going to let him die.

Jack pulled his legs in and dropped. 

There was light down here, little spots of fluorescent mold or plant life giving off eerie, golden glows. He was in a series of tunnels, five of them branching off from where he stood. They were about his height and the walls were oddly dry. Jack pulled the sword from his back, hating that he couldn’t see all sides at once. “Maybe I should name you,” he told the sword, just to fill the silence. “Something befitting, like ‘Fucking Asshole,’ or ‘Biggest Fucking Mistake of My Life.’”

_fear fear fear fear fear_

“I ain’t afraid,” Jack lied. He stopped talking when he heard the sound of scraping, like someone walking around on pointed stilts. Images of spiders and centipedes came to mind. Jack shuddered. “Fuck this place,” he said. “Never playing this game again.”

The skittering came from down one of the tunnels, but he couldn’t tell which, he just knew a general direction and immediately backed away from it, terrified. 

_fearfearfearfear_

A glow bloomed into existence behind him, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to step into it. The fear of the unknown monster wasn’t nearly as bad as the fear of what he would see in there. He couldn’t keep watching Felix suffer. Death, sex, and now fear? God, the idea of Felix being afraid of him made him sick. The skittering was louder, closer. He had a choice, but he couldn’t bring himself to choose. He was terrified of the noise and terrified of the light. Jack almost tripped over himself. He was losing his grip on the sword with the severity of his shaking hands. There was a screech, like nails on a chalkboard, so inhuman that his throat threatened to force itself from his mouth. Then he saw pointed teeth wrapped around a single eye attached to an elongated behemoth of absolute fucking horror and Jack fell back , letting gravity make the decision for him. 

_Jack fell onto the bathroom floor, looking up just in time to see Felix sprint inside and slam the door shut behind him. Felix sat on the floor, back to the door, panting for breath, running his hands over his face, gasping and shaking. Felix braced his feet on the ground, like he was trying to keep the door shut. There was no sound except for Felix’s violent breathing, and Jack took the opportunity to crawl forward, closer to his friend. He reached out and let his fingertips hover just above the skin of Felix’s neck, where he could watch Felix’s pulse thrum. Felix was very much alive._

_Then there was a laugh._

_“e_ ͙̥̯͈̬̭v̝͠e̲ŕ̘͖̣̲ _y_ b̰̦̖̫ _o_ ͙d͉̗̦̲̘y͖̩̯̲͔͍ ̪̗͞k̤̱͕͔̟͇͠n̡̝̮̹̭o̧̫͎͔̖̬̰͇ẃ͓̤̺ś̙͓̤̱̫̯̹ _,” Anti said, his voice low, caressing each word sensually. “Why do you think the girl didn’t want you around? Why do you think no one ever leaves you alone with him? They know you’re sick. They know what you want and they know it’s wrong. You’re a freak. A monster. Y_ ̱̳̜̟̺̹o͏̭̩͕̥̳͓͔u̙̭͟ _'_ ̵̹̰̯͚r̦̼ _e_ ̻̼̮̺ ̬̪̭ẃo̧͕ _r_ ş̮̪̘e͟ ̮ _t_ ̫̥̼͚̳h̯̦̩a͇̩̰ _n_ ̺̗͙ ̴̦͉̱̹m̴̗͎ẹ̪͕̟̹̘ _.”_

_Jack shook his head, obsessed with the way Felix’s face changed with every word he heard. Corpses weren’t this expressive. “It’s all bullshit, Felix,” Jack told him firmly. “Ye’ ain’t a freak or a monster and ye’ ain’t him. If you’d told me before all of this, if you’d told me you loved me? I wouldn’t have hurt you. Not like this.”_

_Felix shuddered and shut his eyes. Jack leaned in, letting their foreheads nearly press together. He couldn’t touch Felix in memories like this, but he could pretend. He shared a one-sided moment of peace, feeling Felix breathe. He would never take the warmth of Felix’s breath for granted every again._

_Felix cried out in sudden pain, and Jack looked down in time to see the glint of a knife being brought back under the door. Fury swept through him like a flame. He scowled at the door and denied himself the satisfaction of breaking reality and strangling Anti himself. Jack had thought Felix had been hurting himself, but it had really been Anti playing his sick game. Jack wasn’t sure which option he preferred now. Felix’s wrist bled profusely._

_“Oh fuck, Seán, what the fuck,” Felix choked out, and Jack’s heart clenched painfully. Felix thought this was him. Was this the first night? The first time Anti had ever chased Felix with the intent to torture? Felix must have been so confused, so lost._

_“I’m not fucking Seán.”_

_“You are, you are, you have to be,” Felix babbled as he pressed into the cut to staunch the bleeding.“You can’t be.”_

_“Which is it, Felix?” Anti asked with an audible smile. “You were stupid to run. Prolonging the inevitable. I’ll be here again tomorrow night, don’t you understand it? I’m not going to leave. I may not be behind this door in the morning, but I’ll be at your side again tonight.” That cruel laugh. Felix whimpered and dug his fingers into his hair. His wrist bled into it and Jack hated the splay of red among the silver strands. He’d used to see that kind of contrast as beautiful and arresting. Jack knew he’d never be able to associate it with anything other than this moment ever again._

_“You’re just gonna stay in there?” Anti asked. “_ C̹̜̮ͅo̯ _w_ ̵̱͚̯͓̤̞a̙̰̼̞̙̕r̶̟̣̹͔͔̥̝d͠ _. Shitty little_ ç̭͕͔o͎̥̲͔w̖̲̩̮̞͉a̠̘ _r_ ̴̺̫̩͚d̯̼̤̱̬ͅ _.” There was a sound behind the door. “I guess I’ll just have to see you tomorrow.” There was a small knock on the wood. “Or maybe I could just keep you company.”_

_“Oh fuck.” Felix pulled his knees to his chest. He was still fucking bleeding. Seán still had a knife and Felix was still defenseless. “Who are you?” he asked. “If you’re not Seán, then who the fuck are you?”_

_“I’d never hurt you like this,” Jack told Felix, shaking his head and watching the red bloom in fascinated horror. “You have to know that, Felix, you have to know I’d never fucking hurt you. I get angry, I yell, but I would never, ever touch you. I’d never make you bleed.”_

_“I’m sure you’ve got a couple ideas, Felix. You’re a sick fuck, but you are clever sometimes.” Jack hated how Anti was deadset on tearing Felix down in every way possible. As if it wasn’t awful enough that he was taunting Felix for being in love— he had to insult his intelligence too, like Felix was lesser in everything. “It’s not like there are a lot of options out there for you to choose from. W_ ͇̰͚ͅͅ _h_ ̲̹̭̦̬̝͈͜ _o_ ̪̤͉̮̦̝̺͡ ̹̙͕̺͈̘e̛̖̟̥͔͖͍ _l_ ̠̗̭̣̳͔͜s̵̰͕̣̠̠͈̬e̷̲ ̜͝ _c_ ͜ _ó_ ͙̺̩ṵ̘̙͞l̡̘̠̳d̖̜̫̻̠͉̦ ̗̗į͎̖͈͍t͍͍̦̮͉͔ ̤͉̖̟̀ḇ̹͓ͅe̡?̩̞̭̮͖̝ _”_

_Jack felt Felix tremble from his head to his toes. “You’re not fucking real,” Felix said._

_“A_ ͍̗̺̜͙̟͡ͅǹ͇̟d̥̫̳͈̙̫ ̤̠͔̙̞͝n̵͓̜̩e̻͔ _i_ ̤̞̭͓͙̻̝ _t_ ̗̘͖̜̬͜ _h_ e͍̞̙̬r̬̱̳ ̡̳̪̟̜͙͈͖i͖͉͍ș̱̱̪̼͠ ̤̜̼͍̙̫̩͞ _th_ ̤͜a̹̙̞͕̟t͝ ̡̮̻̠͍̹̲͕ _c_ ̮̠̭͙͙̯͡ụ̱̹͢t͉͕̱̙̣̰͡ ̲̣͓i̼̮͓̜̹̪̮n͎̘̦̤͖ ̼͕͍̞͜y̡͓͎͎͔̱̟̣o͎͇͖͕̼ _u_ ̡̖̼͚͖͇r̹ ͢s̸ _k_ ͉̣̳̺i̖͇̞̱̯̞̻ _ņ.”_

 _Both Jack and Felix looked down to where Felix bled. There was something cold settling in Jack’s stomach. Felix had probably spent this night with two horrible options. Either Felix was insane, or his best friend wanted to kill him. How do you survive that?“_ S̰̙̭͔͉ _i_ ̼̫͉͙̯c̪̥̪ _k, s_ ̗̤̦͇͔̘͘ _i_ c͎̳̗̭̯̦k͈̮̱̯̩̤̀ _,_ s̱̼̟͞i̳͢c̩k̛͕ _,” Anti sang. “Sick as a dog. Sick as man. The girl worked so hard to keep Jack safe. It’s a sad day in hell when someone’s fear drives them from the one they love the most. Now not even she can protect Jack from you.”_

_“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Felix whispered, shutting his eyes again. Anti continued to chant his favorite word. “Shut up!” Felix shouted, hitting the door with his fist. He was only met with that same fucking laugh._

_“I’m so sorry, Felix,” Jack choked out, his hands hovering on either side of Felix’s face. He couldn’t help him. He couldn’t end the pain. He couldn’t even stop himself from hurting the only person who had stood by his side and fought for him._

_“Shut up,” Felix sobbed, the panic finally crashing. “Just, just shut up. Please.”_

_“Then how will you know I_ ̗̺͈̻̙̮ _'_ ҉m̫̩̥̝̗̕ ̮̜͓ _h_ ̲̩͚͓e̱̳̯͇͇̳r̢͍̠̯̥̹ͅ _e_ ̻̗̣̼̺ _?”_

Jack crashed out of the memory, hitting a literal wall. Above him loomed something out of his worst nightmares. A centipede made of bones, the length of two schoolhouses, with a face made of sharpened teeth that surrounded a piercing, green eye. It’s legs were skeletal limbs, over twenty of them all paired up along it’s length. It’s body was made entirely of ribcages and spinal columns. Jack would have chosen to die if it meant he could escape this thing.

Jack didn’t have his sword— it lied on the ground too far away for him to reach. He was pinned down by hands on his shoulders and hands on his legs and hands on his hips. The eye above stared down unblinking. Jack nearly trembled out of his own skin.

“I don’t want to die,” he whispered.

The thing tilted it’s head to and fro, judging him, gauging him and his reactions, figuring out the perfect place to strike. Then the body undulated, sharp and short, with a clacking of the bones and a scrape of the teeth. It sounded like it was laughing at him. Then it crawled off of him and disappeared down one of the dark tunnels. 

Jack lied on the floor, trembling and crying. His brain refused to move past anything except the instinct to run, get up and fucking _run_ , but Jack couldn’t run, he needed to kill this thing for Felix. How the fuck did you kill that thing? It was made of bones, it was already dead in every way, how the fuck was he meant to—

The eye, the eye. 

Jack ran his hands over his face, shutting his eyes, refusing to remember where he was for a few, precious moments to calm his racing heart. He just had to stab it in the eye, which shouldn’t be that difficult considering it’s eye was its head. Jack had already killed two of these things. There was no reason why he couldn’t kill a third. He could do this. He had to.

Jack sat up and grabbed the sword.

_the air the air the air_

So something was in the air. Jack hoped it wasn’t poison, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Could he die in his own headspace or would he just respawn? He’d find out when it happened. Jack held the sword tight and looked around at the different tunnels, steadying himself, resisting the urge to look above at how he’d come in. He couldn’t crawl out. There was no point in acknowledging the possibility of escape. 

The skittering came from behind, but he didn’t turn around. He imagined Felix with his back to the bathroom door, blood running down his wrist, trying to reconcile a face that wasn’t familiar anymore. 

Because while Jack thought that being shown these memories was meant to drag him down and make him less of what he is, Jack couldn’t see beyond the fact that Felix had been so very afraid and worried for his own life, and yet Felix had still been there the next morning. Felix had faced his terror for Jack. The least Jack could do was do the same for him.

The skittering was right behind him. He felt something brush his shoulder. Jack spun on his heel and sliced the sword out, just grazing the top of the eye. The creature barely seemed phased. It rushed past Jack down the next tunnel, its bone making the mockery of laughter again. Jack couldn’t stand here at where all the tunnels joined, it was too open. He turned and ran down the nearest tunnel, giving himself two options for defense. Behind or in front. Jack held the sword at his side, listening intently. When there was only silence, he took in a deep, steadying breath and called out to the thing, not even allowing a waver in his voice. There was skittering, but it sounded as if it came from above. Jack shut his eyes. Even though there was hardly a difference to the darkness, it made it easier to listen.

It was above. And a little to the left. Much closer now. Getting even closer Jack crouched down, sword, held above his head. If he timed it just right, he could—

Jack stood quickly and shoved the sword upwards. The bones shrieked and clacked and fell around Jack. He hunched over, protecting his head with his hands. The clacking continued, sad little sounds, and the scraping like something was being dragged. Jack squinted in the darkness and saw he’d severed the thing, disconnecting the head from the rest of the body. The body flailed uselessly just behind him, like a decapitated snake. The head itself was staring at Jack, it’s bright eye harsh and accusatory. Jack stared it down, struggling with his still-instinctual need to run. There was something about the eye that sapped away whatever courage he could muster. 

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he said before slicing the blade down the iris and pupil. He reached in, unperturbed by the process now, just ready to get it over with. He faltered when his hand touched wet, coarse hair where a chin should have been.

Jack pulled back the iris and looked down into Felix’s face instead of his own.

Horror curled through him. Jack dropped to the ground and kicked himself away, a scream lodged in his throat. Felix’s eyes were wide and unseeing, his mouth agape in a scream of his own. There was blood from his nose and mouth and there was a horrible gash down his face where Jack had sliced with the sword. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Jack babbled. The sword kept repeating _the eyes_ but Jack couldn’t fucking take out Felix’s eye, he couldn’t do that to him, he couldn’t put Felix through any worse than he’d already been forced to live through. Why couldn’t this damned world give him a break? Why couldn’t it make this a little easier? Jack would give _anything_ to trade places with Felix, be the corpse on the ground, and he was doing his best to fix things, he was trying to bring Felix back, so why the fuck couldn’t this place just cut him some slack and stop trying to drive Jack to the brink of his sanity?

“He didn’t deserve this,” Jack sobbed. “ _I_ don’t deserve this. Just stop. Just stop.”

The sword was persistent. Jack began to hyperventilate as he crawled back to the opened eye and shut his own eyes before feeling around Felix’s face for where to put the sword. He sunk the blade in the crevice of the eye socket and pulled out Felix’s eye, picture the icy blue surrounded by red. Jack sobbed again, louder. He then forced himself to look— he needed to face what he’d done, take responsibility, take the punishment— but was astounded to see his own face again where Felix’s had once been.

All he could feel was relief as the world swam black again. 

. . .

Upon waking up, Jack scrambled to his feet and ran to Felix. He nearly tackled the corpse and hated the cold, but he would take what he could get. “I’m so sorry,” he told Felix, crying. “I’m just so sorry.”

There wasn’t much else he could say. He’d never given a lot of credit to any of his friends when it came to heroic bravery or anything of the like because none of them had ever been put in a situation that called for it as far as he’d known. Turned out, Jack had been very wrong and Felix was the bravest person he’d ever been lucky enough to know. Facing down that fear, facing down the terror of death, and staying strong into the morning, remaining for Jack and keeping him as safe as he could night after night. That was heroic bravery. Facing the fear and refusing to run. Felix was a god damn hero to Jack. 

“I’ll get ye’ back,” he sobbed. He was past thinking that Felix would feel better off dead— Felix hadn’t faced Anti night after night with the desire to die. He’d fought to live and he’d fought for Jack to live. Putting Jack’s life above his own wasn’t putting his own down. Felix just only saw a real worth in living if Jack was there. “I’m going to bring you back and I’ll kill every single one of these fucking bastards with my bare fucking hands if I must.”

He placed a kiss to the crown of Felix’s head and went back to the sword lying on the ground, wrapping his fingers around the three eyeballs hanging from his neck. Jack picked up the blade and faced the sky. “Tell me what to do next.”

_ONCE FEAR IS OVERCOME YOU ARE LEFT WITH ONLY THE EMPTINESS OF ANGER_

Jack grimaced. He hated being angry. He wondered what memory he would explore next, as he was sure what he’d seen last had been Felix’s first night with Anti. What else could there be to explore? Unless these weren’t Felix’s memories, but his own. 

Agro galloped up behind him and neighed incessantly for his attention. He swung onto her back with minimal effort and she took him down the steps, through the grass, towards the pitiless storm.

. . .

“Down there?” Jack asked Agro and the sword as he stared downtime cliffside so steep even Agro couldn’t scale it. He was supposed to climb down into the dark hole, like a thin crater. He was reminded of the Marianas Trench if it didn’t have any water in it. Jack grimaced and fitfully stroked Agro’s mane in an attempt to soothe his nerves. “Not sure I wanna find out what’s down there.” At least it didn’t smell like death. Jack was tempted to become a temporary vegetarian after all of this. The smell of rotting meat was branded into his nostrils. 

“Don’t wait up,” he told her after heaving a sigh and sliding off her back. Agro nickered and nuzzled against his face with her soft nose. Absently, Jack pressed a kiss to her cheek, reminded a little of Felix. Agro was much warmer than Felix was now, though. “I’ll be back,” he said. “Get a head start back to the temple, yeah? Wait for me. And maybe keep Felix company if you could.” She tossed her head back with a whinny like she understood. Jack doubted it, but he still took comfort in the idea. 

He toed off the edge of the cliff and thanked god it was all shale and sandstone. The cliffside was jagged and easy to climb down, at the very least, and the grip was strong for his shoes. But the more he climbed, the less progress he seemed to make. Jack climbed down and down and down, yet the trench wasn’t getting any closer, even though the cliff above was getting further away. Was it all to scale? Was the thing much larger than he’d thought? Or was he just crazy. Jack climbed for nearly fifteen minutes. His arms and legs shook with the effort. He was panting for breath and somehow sweating. His fingertips were losing strength. 

He was going to fall. 

“Oh god,” he wheezed, stopping his descent to rest his head on the rock in front of him. His hands were starting to cramp and he knew he he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. What would happen when he fell? Would he hit the rocks and break every bone in his body? Or would he just fall forever and smash open on the bottom of the trench below? Did the trench even have an end?

Fuck. It didn’t matter. Jack didn’t have the strength to climb back up and he definitely didn’t have the strength to reach whatever end was beneath this. Jack squeezed his eyes shut. He thought of the way Felix had faced down a psycho with a knife and stood strong enough to make breakfast for the same psycho the next day. He’d been called a rapist, a sick fuck, a mistake, everything, and he’d still been there. If Felix could do that for him, then Jack could do this for Felix.

Jack let go of the wall and leaned back, deciding to test out the lives system in this fucked up game. 

The feeling of your stomach lurching into your chest left after about thirty seconds. Jack could hear the wind rushing past his ears in his descent, but that was really all he could take in to register he was falling— that, and the sky shrinking away above him. Darkness encroached on all sides, oppressive walls stretching impossibly high. He had no idea how deep this hole was, but he could suddenly relate to the weird apathy Alice in Wonderland had displayed. After falling for so long, you start to feel more like you’re floating than plummeting to death. It started to lose its excitement. 

Jack turned himself over, thinking he had miles left to go and that he may as well adjust his eyes to the darkness instead of focusing on the dwindling light. His eyes went wide and he screamed when the ground suddenly appeared in front of him the second he looked down. He hit hard, knocking the air from his lungs, but that was it. He groaned and turned onto his back, praying his nose wasn’t broken. Overhead, there was nothing. No light. Just a dome of rock. “Fuck,” he said. The sword lied beside him. He wrapped a hand around the hilt and rolled his eyes at the annoyance that rolled off the weapon. “I didn’t like hitting the ground either, ye’ bastard, so just—“

He cut himself off at the sound of quiet shuffling, like bare feet on the ground. He shuddered and couldn’t bring himself to look at what he would be fighting, not yet. He’d already down his extremely brave act for the hour, he didn’t think his heart could handle much more. 

A soft blue glow of light came from the direction his feet were. He had to choose— the memory or the monster. The choice was honestly easy as he was sure he was done seeing into the hell Felix had survived. Jack got up and ran for the blue glow of the memory. He heard the sudden scuttle of skin on the ground, then felt the brush of fingertips across the back of his neck just before he fell into the memory. 

_He was in the bathroom again. For a terrible moment, Jack thought he’d been wrong. That he’d have to watch Felix suffer again. That he’d have to discover more of what Felix had been forced to survive in the name of the boy he wordlessly loved. Then Jack saw a bushel of dark brown hair and a stylish striped sweater and realized he was looking at PJ holding the door closed as laughter rang from behind it._

_“I’m going to fucking kill you, Jack!” PJ shouted, and Jack was shocked by the absolute hatred he heard in PJ’s words. There was none of the disbelief and hesitance that Felix had felt. There was only anger, rash and unchecked. “You’re such a fucking asshole for this, you fucking piece of shit!”_

_“_ I̟̰̫̘ ̢̬͈͈͖̙͉̥ _a_ ̺̹̻͉͝i̭̱̥̘ͅn̗̪͍͟'̢̩̯̖͉̖ _t_ ҉̖͙̙̪ ̬̪̩͡ _Ji_ n͈͞ģ̦̭̘̲̣ ̗͇̬̗͈͝ _id_ ̜̤͘i͍̰̩ _o_ t̖̥̬̠̦̹̞ _._ ͙̯̟͙̀ _”_

_PJ kicked the door, fury written across his face. For a moment, Jack was more scared of his friend than Anti behind the door._

_“You’re sick,” PJ hissed. “You know that? Playing these tricks. Playing this fucking game. Put down the fuck knife, you fucking asshole, I’m supposed to be your friend!”_

_“It ain’t me,” Jack said weakly and uselessly to his friend’s back. He hadn’t thought of how Anti could’ve ruined all these other relationships. He’d only thought of Felix being chased down the halls and cut open._

_“_ S̟͟ _o_ ̖̲̯̝͓̝͚m̪͈e͟ _o_ ̤̤̥̖̯̭̠͘n͎̯̮̝̮̻̼͞ _e_ ̝̪̣̫͍̩ _s_ o̜u͈̩̯̙̱̳̙n̝͕d̖̭̲̞̞͉́ _s_ ̙̹̹͔̟͘ ͕̘͉̭̥a̮̗̯̰͡ͅͅ ̫͉͢ _l_ ̬̺͖͝i͞t̝̜̗̬̱̥̻t̛͖̬̦̘ _l_ e̠̫͍͔̦̟ ̩͝a͎̗̹̹̹͇n̷̯͈̲̟̣̳͖ _g_ ̳̼̰̖̺̥̖̕r̡̯̰̭y̙̤̞ _,_ ̩̜͈͙̭̻͜ _” Anti taunted, unfazed by the passionate hatred in PJ’s tone. Anti was used to be hated. Jack really fucking wasn’t. “Wh_ ҉̙̮a͞t̝̼̩̜̕ ̠͇̝̻ _d_ ̲͈̠͈͙ _o_ ͙̬̖͙͕͢ ̢̫̼̺̜̻̝ͅ _y_ ͚̻̩̖͍̟e͓ _'_ ̭̣̼͙̜ ͎ _ne_ ḙ̷͉̮̗̼͔d̵̫̖̠,̕ ̗̳̬̮̞̻̘P̙͓̜̙̟̲J̦͓͓̥̣͖́?̸̜̲̝̫ ̡̪͈A̘ h͉uͅg̹?͇ _”_

_“I will kill you if you touch me, Jack,” PJ sneered, and Jack believed him. The way PJ had left so abruptly in the morning suddenly made a lot of sense._

_“Don’t you ever come near me again,” PJ told Anti through the door. “If you even try to talk to me again, I’ll fucking break your head open on the ground. Either stop this now, or know that we’re done.”_

Jack fell out of the memory and stared at a wall. For a few moments, he was in a gentle sort of shock. He hadn’t felt like PJ hated him that morning upon finding him in the bathroom, but… Jack hadn’t been feeling much of anything right those days. Could that have been it? After all was said and done here, would PJ… would Jack have lost a friend?

There was a hand around his neck. Jack mindlessly slapped it away, too caught up in his thoughts. The hand came back. Then another. Then a third. As all of this registered as “wrong” in Jack’s head, he turned around and stared into a bright green eye surrounded by wiggling, bulbous flesh like a lion’s mane. It had five arms functioning as all appendages. It looked angry. 

“Oh fuck,” Jack choked out, pressing himself against the wall as the flesh tentacles reached out and tried to wrap around his head. The thing pulled Jack closer into its body, trying to devour him. He shrieked and slashed out aimlessly with the sword. The blade hit something solid and the creature darted away with a squelch of blood gushing out behind it. It crawled up the wall and the ceiling. It stared down at Jack with its accusatory eye and cursed him silently. 

Jack was shaking, but what else was new? He stood on his trembling legs and glared up at the thing. “Get down here,” he told it, twisting his hand on the hilt of the now-bloody sword. “Get down here so I can kill you.”

It obliged. It jumped down from the ceiling, the weight of its body hitting the ground making the hole room shudder. Jack kept his balance, staring it down, challenging it to come closer. It was still bleeding. He took immense satisfaction in having been the one to do that. “Come and get me,” Jack growled, widening his stance, solidifying himself against the attack he knew was coming. Fuck this asshole. Jack didn’t deserve the anger or hatred PJ had felt for him. Maybe he’d be able to reconcile with PJ, but for now, Jack just had to kill this thing and move on to the next. 

The thing pawed at the ground, like a bull readying to charge. Then it leaped for Jack, its five hands propelling it forward. Jack waited until the last second before rolling out of the way, letting the creature hit the wall eye-first, hard enough to shake the foundations of the dome. Jack grinned and darted to the other end of the room, catching onto the attack. Like the bed-sheet that came from above, or the woman that exposed itself during its finishing move, this fucker had an attack pattern and Jack was going to exploit it. 

The thing charged again— it hit the wall harder than before, its anger and disorientation making it stupider. Jack laughed as he waited for the third charge. When he dodged it, he started to taunt, jeering at the monster and letting himself hate it. It was stupid and cumbersome and Jack was going to kill it. “Ye’ can’t fucking win!” he shouted at it as he dodged another charge. The floor and ceiling was beginning to crack with the weight of the failed attacks. “I’ll bury us both before I let you touch me!”

The thing paused. It slowly tilted its head to the side, regarding Jack carefully, before charging again. At first, Jack thought he’d won. There was no way it would survive another blow to the head of its own making. Until the thing leaped high into the air, far above Jack’s reach. It went to the ceiling, then into the ceiling, crawling into one of the cracks. Jack was suddenly alone. “Oh fuck you, ye’ fucking cheater.”

Jack stood in the center of the room. He shut his eyes and focused on the sounds, or the absence of sound in general. He let himself take in everything— the quiet creaking of the failing foundation, the slide and scrape of rocks, the groan of gravity weighing down on the world ahead, the soft shuffle of bare hands on the floor and—

Jack drove his sword down into the crack beneath him at the last possible second, right into the center of the monsters eye. It screamed in pain at him, gushing blood. Jack laughed, loud and triumphant. Even as the thing still writhed on his sword, he shoved his hand in alongside the blade, into the eyeball. He felt along his own face, then used his fingers to gouge out Anti’s eye.  He pulled it from the flesh with a wet sound and a cry of excitement, holding it into the air, feeling a little like a warrior. Jack grinned wide with pride as he gazed into the severed eye and let the darkness consume him.

. . .

Waking up staring at the ceiling let him finally notice something he’d never paid attention to before— there were five circles surrounding the skylight above him, wide, carved circles, spheres from the ceiling. Four of them were cracked and crumbled. Only one was still whole.

“One left,” he breathed, holding the eyes on his necklace, aware of the four he had. “Just one left, Felix, and I swear I’ll have ye’ back.” He got to his feet, unable to stop smiling as he picked up the sword. He called for Agro, ready to finish this. He’d proven to himself that he could do whatever it took to get Felix back. “Just one left.”

Jack passed the alter, ready to head out, aware of how close the storm was now. It was barely a mile out and coming in fast. He didn’t have much time left, but he was confident he could make it. Still. 

Jack’s gaze fell to the alter. 

Then he shook his head and faced forward again, out into the fields. He couldn’t spare another moment. Felix would want him to progress, he’d want to be alive again. Jack didn’t have time to waste with a corpse when he could have Felix back, alive and whole, even sooner. 

_WHEN ALL ELSE IS DEFEATED ONLY YOU SHALL REMAIN_

Jack grinned. It almost felt like Dormin was finally on his side. He didn’t know what kind of monster he could face for the final fight, but he felt ready for it. Agro met him at the bottom of the steps, stomping her feet, just as eager as he was. He climbed atop her easily. The sword hummed, a mindless little comfort in the back of his mind. Even though the sword had killed Felix, it was helping Jack bring him back. Jack would almost miss the intrusive presence once he was out of here. 

Agro raced across the planes. Jack knew this would be his last chance to take it all in. His love for this game went beyond just loving something that had impacted him as a child now— he’d lived and breathed the world as he’d always wanted. He’d faced monsters and changed who he was through it all. What was the point of loving something if it didn’t make you a better person? Jack shut his eyes and tilted his head back, spreading his arms wide. He felt himself move through the air on Agro’s back and finally felt a moment a peace. A moment of quiet and safety and happiness. 

He felt something else, too. A new presence, though not recent. Feeling this new presence was more like discovering a new mark on your skin. It had always been there, you’d only just become aware of it. 

The presence was different from the sword. It wrapped around his thoughts and emotions like a warm blanket, soothing away the fear that still lingered from the bone snake. It washed away the anger and self-deprecation, his frustration with himself for Anti and for ever creating the bastard. It made him believe that none of this was entirely his fault. That he couldn’t be blamed for it.

It was Felix.

Jack’s eyes flew open and he nearly fell off of Agro at the sudden realization. A whisper of fond affection bubbled through his subconscious at the fumble. The sword was humming vehemently, saying 

_sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice_

Over and over until Jack couldn’t think of another word. In a way, Felix being here, in his thoughts? It made sense. A beautiful sort of sense, one Jack was happy to have. Because someone had died for him. Someone had put his life above their own and loved him enough to die for it. Unwanted or not, that kind of sacrifice couldn’t go without change. Being loved like that couldn’t help but make you different. Jack was glad to be changed in this way. He was glad his subconscious was forever altered by what he knew now. Even if Jack failed here and died of his own faults, if he never got to see Felix or anyone else ever again, at least he would die knowing he was loved. 

Agro stopped. She had brought Jack to the front of what looked like another temple, though much smaller in size. It was circular and arena-like. It oozed a darkness with a severity Jack hadn’t experienced before in this place. He swallowed hard, but held fast to the feeling of moments before. Even in the face of this oppressive evil, Felix was with him. He could do this. 

“You’ve been good to me, Eggroll,” Jack said as he slid gracefully from her back and pat her neck. He smiled up at her, knowing he’d never be able to play the real game the same ever again. Not now that he knew how supportive she could be in the oddest of ways. “I’ll never forget ye’.” It felt like goodbye, though he almost wished it weren’t. It wasn’t her fault he’d only gotten to know her in the throes of mourning and insanity. In another life, he probably could’ve actually enjoyed riding her around. “Could’ve made a life of it,” he murmured. He gave her one last pat. “Bye, Eggroll. Have a nice life. Hope ye’ aren’t stuck in my head for all eternity after this.”

He walked into the temple, refusing to let the darkness that immediately surrounded and squelched out the light take hold in his head. This wasn’t like centipede-fucker and this wasn’t Mr. Lion-Cunt. Jack wondered what he would face down for the final fight. Maybe something like a dragon? Or a dragonfly. Maybe he’d fight a fucking table since he’d already fought a bed-sheet. Maybe he’d fight a dragon table.

Poking fun at these things was helping the darkness fro haunting the corners of his mind. He could still feel the lingering warmth of Felix, too, and it made the temple seem almost brighter and easier to see in. The stone here was much more dirty and broken up than the temple Felix lay in. It was almost muggy in here, and he worried for mold like he would’ve back in his house. Jack grinned to himself as images of a mold-monster flashed through his thoughts. If he tried hard enough, he could pretend Felix was laughing with him at the absurdity of it all. Jack went deeper into the temple. The halls were straightforward and led into the same place. They opened up into a huge area, much like a throne room, with a high, carved ceiling, tall windows that let in a surprising about of light, and pillars that lined the edges, leading towards steps that went up to an actual throne. 

Jack admired the area, wandering around, taking in the shattered glass of the windows and the rotting wood of the throne. Nothing was standing out at him. Nobody was rearing for a fight. He walked up to the throne and ran his hand along one of the arm rests. It was made of old, ugly oak with a shredded, threadbare, red cloth thrown across it, like an old cape you’d see on the back of a king. He was worried that touching it would make it fall to dust on the floor. Behind the throne, on the wall, though, there seemed to be a mural. Like something more out of Zelda than Shadow of the Colossus. Jack couldn’t see much of it, but he could still see the same general five orbs surrounding a scratched-out figure. Someone had very recently taken a sharp object and ruined whatever was in the middle. Jack grimaced and ran his fingertips over the jagged cuts. Someone hated whatever had once been here. He squinted, then took a step back. The jagged cuts were suddenly letters.

ITHE

There was a blue glow, but Jack ignored it in favor of the word. It had been scratched into the picture of him and Signe back at his home. He ran his fingers over the word, still at a loss to the meaning. He felt a little stupid, in retrospect, for having accused Felix of being the one to carve it. Especially now that Jack knew of the monsters in his head. 

“Want to know what it means?”

Jack startled, then turned to face the voice. He stared at himself standing at the other end of the room, in front of the gently glowing blue. Literally himself. He was wearing a black t-shirt, back jeans, black shoes, black gages, black eyes. Jack took an instinctual step away, knowing danger when he saw it. And along with the instance came absolute hatred. “ _You_ ,” He bit out, voice dripping with venom. Jack hadn’t considered himself a hateful person until he’d watched his best friend get run through with a knife. “ _You killed Felix_.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “We killed Felix, Jack, it ain’t hard to figure out.”

“I’d never have hurt him like that,” Jack snarled. “I never would’ve touched him like you did! I never would’ve made him so fucking afraid of me! I never would have hurt him!”

“You were hurting him e͇̣̦͎v̪̤̯̠̱e̬͡r̟̫̦͙ͅy̭̰̱̯̗̮͎͢ ̛f̨̯̘̱u͙͇̱̤̠̪̠c̳͕̟̬̖̜k̮͕̣̙̭͇̭i̖̖n̦͎̕g̼ ̜d͉͙͓̗͈̼a͔̰̫͓̞̕y̫̯ already,” Anti drawled. “You just didn’t leave the same kind of scars I did.”

Jack bristled, then finally overcame the momentary fear. He held the sword at the ready and moved towards Anti, readying to clash and tear into him. But Anti laughed and pulled back, waggling a taunting finger at Jack. “Not yet, n̠̫͔͙̩o͕̖̞̺̦͉̭t ̬̻̥͙̺ͅỳ̼͈͚̫̺͈e̼͇͔͎t̬̺,” he said in that horrible, high pitched giggle. “Ye’ haven’t even seen the last of what ye’ve done, Jack, you haven’t even seen what you’ve done to these people. You think Felix matters? That Sussex boy? You’re forgetting the one person a man like you should be thinking about. What’s a knight in shining armor without a princess to shield?” Anti stepped gracefully to the side, waving an arm in a grand gesture of reveal at the blue glow. “T̙̪̩͕ak͟e̛ ̱͍̤̞t̸͍̩̗͕̻̣h͉͖e̺̗͕͉̰̫ ͖̪̮̠͈̝f͏̭ḭ̫͕̲̺̯̱ǹ̬͓̩͕̙͓͈a̦̱̯̠͕lͅ ̱s̩̩̰̺t̴e͍̤͇̬͟p̹̲̯̹͈͈͞,̲͎̝͟ ͕͜J͜ac̶̩͎̫͔̩ͅͅḵ.̨̟̦ Find out just how deep of a hole you’ve dug.”

“Nothing is worse than you raping Felix,” Jack snapped. But he faced the blue and took a steadying breath. “Regardless of what I see in here,” he told Anti. “I am coming back out and I am killing you.”

“How can you be so sure it’ll fix what you’ve done?”

“You killed him, not me,” Jack reiterated firmly. “And I don’t know, but I know it will. You took something from him. Killing you will put it back in him.”

Anti laughed. “You seem very c͓o̡̝͓͎̫nf̸͉̤̯̩i͍͞d̨͕̻̤ȩnt̖̘̮̮ in that.”

“Bringing him back is all I’ve got.” Jack glared at him. “I’ll fuck you up when I’m done here.” He turned to the blue, ready to face whatever it could show him next. Anti would get what was coming to him once Jack was finished with these memories. He stepped into the blue without hesitation.

_For a moment, everything was so dark that Jack almost thought he’d just dropped himself into a trap of Anti’s design, maybe some sort of endless pit, or even just nonexistence itself. He could hear something, though, the soft brush of fabric, and then he felt velcro against the skin of his cheek. He heard a sniffle._

_The area was suddenly flooded with artificial life. Jack realized he was crouched in the broom closet, the one just off from the front door of his home. Signe was in there with him, her back against the door. She held onto a knife with one hand, her phone to her ear in the other. Signe was crying, quiet little sobs, like she was trying to keep from being heard. Jack realized she probably was— she was trying to hide from Anti. This wasn’t her first night. When she said “mor?” into the phone, Jack also realized that this was probably her last night, too._

_“Jeg vil gerne komme hjem,” she whispered into the phone. “Jeg er bange.”_

_Jack could understand her, for the most part, but he’d never learned that last word. Jack watched her from across the tiny closet, really looked her over because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her. It felt like days that he’d been in his own head, and an eternity leading up to it. Even in this re-fabricated memory, he could tell himself he could smell her shampoo or the feeling of her skin underneath his hands, because all of that as instinctual like muscle memory. He’d known her for so long. He had every little thing about her memorized, except for this expression on her face. This look of terror. She was hiding from Anti, but Jack was sure she still believed him to be Jack. She was waiting for her boyfriend try to kill her tonight._

_“Må jeg komme hjem?” Signe asked tearfully. “Jeg hader dette sted.”_

_Jack’s heart broke a little. All he’d ever wanted to do was give Signe a good life, one she could be safe and happy in, a life she could be proud of. He loved her. He’d have given anything for her, anything to her. Jack would have given up all of this for her if she’d asked and meant it of him. It would’ve hurt, it would’ve been hard, but that was what you were supposed to do for the people you loved. Risk it all and give it all._

_There was chatter on the other end, soft and understanding. Signe shook her head. “Seán are brudt. Jeg kan ikke være med ham.”_

_Jack resolutely set his jaw. He’d loved Signe. It was hard to reconcile the sacrificial love he’d had for her when faced with her decision to leave him. While Jack couldn’t blame her for putting herself first, especially in the face of death, it was a little harder to forgive when you saw someone else stare back at death and tell it to fucking do it. Maybe Jack loved her, but she didn’t love him. Not the same way. And even though that was entirely Jack’s fault, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fix it._

_There was a tilted laugh from behind the door and Signe quickly hung up. The closet was swathed in darkness again. Jack could hear her whimpers of fear. He waited with her in the darkness as Anti stepped lightly around the house, just beyond the door. There was a faint tonal shift. Anti was suddenly humming. It was a haunting tune, one that didn’t quiet compliment Jack’s own finicky voice. It cracked at the edges and grated low, much like Anti’s own laugh. The tune raised the hair on the back of Jack’s neck. Signe was shaking so hard that the door was beginning to rattle. No, that wasn’t her. That was the doorknob._

_The door was flung up and Signe fell back onto the ground with a scream. She held her knife up with weak intent, and Anti grinned down at her with a blade of his own. “Up, up, up and at ‘em!” he cackled, nudging her gently in the side. “Ye’ hid for quiet some time. Must say, I’m a little_ p̬̮͔̻̯̯͖ṛ̞o͖͕̜̞ͅu̖̙̼̠͕̬͠ͅ _d.”_

_Jack is immediately struck in the difference between how Anti treated Signe versus Felix. There was a distinct lack of disgust, a sort of gentleness that Anti treated her with. Either some residual part of Anti still loved Signe, or Anti just truly and genuinely hated Felix._

_Signe got up and started to run, heading for the front door. She tried to pull it open, but Anti put his foot against it from behind, caging her between the wall and his leg. He smiled twistedly at her, eyes flashing black for a split second. Signe slashed out wildly with her knife, but Anti pulled back just far enough to make her reach useless. He laughed at her again._

_“You’re really just gonna try to hurt yer boy like that?” he asked her, shaking his head as she tried to cut him again. “He could still be in here!_ Y̯̤ _o_ ҉̬̖̟u̩̭̜̖̰͍͈̕ ͈͈̦̻c̵̝̱̻̘͎̹ _o_ ̷̜̩̺̥̩ͅͅu͏̙͈̠ͅ _l_ ̞͔̘̼͚ _d_ ̡̯͚͙̺ ҉̹̹̺̻ͅͅh̼̬́ _u_ ̰̳͎̺͙͈ṟ̛t̸̻͍̥̜ ̖̺͝h̡̫į̯̩̞͕m̧̹!̛̮ _”_

 _Signe didn’t seem to care. She lashed out and nearly got Anti along the chest. Anti tutted disdainfully and took her knife-wielding hand in his own, gripping her wrist tightly enough to bruise. “You’re sloppy,” he told her with an edge of disappointment. “Let me show you what a_ r̙ _e_ ͚a̩͢ĺ̦̫͎̞̖ ͖͟ _d_ ̘͎̭͜ȩ̜͓̫̱̲s̢̙̣̪ _ire_ ̗̭͜ ̣͚t̙̭̬ͅo̹ͅ ̗̞͕̪͝k̹͓̻ _i_ ̭͚̣̲̼̱̼ḽ̢̪̦̗̖͕ḷ _looks like.”_

_He brought the knife down and dragged it up her bare thigh, just the lightest press of the sharpened side to her skin. It broke the skin, but only just. Nothing like the cuts Anti would leave on Felix. Signe still cried out, though, more than likely from shock than pain. Anti tutted again, like he was disappointed by the sound. He reached up and took her by the throat— not hard enough to choke, but just enough to hold her in place. Signe watched him with terror._

_“Look how_ s̪͞i̡͎͉̩̫̯c̙̝͍̜͎̮̤ _k_ ̫͜ _he is,” Anti cooed. “A madman chasing you through your own house, the house you share with him. How can you love someone after this? How can you love him after seeing him look at you with such murderous intent?”_

_Anti’s expression darkened. The blackness overcame his eyes again and his lip curled up. He finally looked like he hated Signe as much as he hated Felix. “You will never forget this look on his face. You will never forget that I am inside him.” He grinned and readjusted his grip so he could run an almost loving thumb across the line of her jaw._

_“Better run, sweetheart. Soon you’ll be waking up to me basking in the daylight beside ye’ in bed. Seán’s almost gone— a ticking time bomb._ S̸̥͉̹o͎ͅòṋ͉͔́,̯̹̞ ̺a͓͔̻͓͕l͔̣͇̀ _l_ ͙̭̯̘͍̠̦͞ ̯͜y̯ _o_ ̳͚̫͞u̶’̷̲͖̩̫̫ _l_ ͇̘͚͓̝̲͚l̜̱̖̬̗̘̕ ̧̗̤̫̝̻̼̹ _h_ ̡̺̠a͏̙v̼̣̱e̪ ̛̭̯̖̹͇̝̝ _l_ e̳͕f̥̯̫͈̱ _t_ ͈̺̜ ̘ _t_ ̳͉̻̺̣̞o͈̗͎͟ ͓̰̠̫͞l͏͉o͏̥͉̮̖̖v̞͕̟̦̲e̵̘͖ ̫͍ͅi̖̤͔͍̝͍ͅs͔̯̩̮ ̫̤̞͓̕ _m_ ̥̩̝̣͙e͔̹̘̻̝.̞̮͉̕ _”_

_He let her go. Signe ran for the door again and made it outside._

_That was the last Jack saw of her._

_The back of her._

_Signe running away, choosing safety over him. Maybe if she’d come back, maybe if she’d stayed, Jack wouldn’t hate seeing this so much, but he knew better. He knew the relative future. She would run out this door a second time in the morning and never look back. She would abandon him. And maybe Jack shouldn’t blame her for that, shouldn’t begrudge her for caring about herself like this, but he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of bitterness. Then the bitterness was followed by anger. Then hurt._

_Jack wasn’t worth fighting for to her. He knew that now._

The blue faded, leaving Jack standing in the throne room, his sword held uselessly in his weak grip. There wasn’t an ounce of fight in his bones. Signe hadn’t see him worthy of fear, sacrifice, or pain. He’d been good for an easy love and stability. He wasn’t worth anything beyond that to her. 

He felt Anti come up behind him. A hand gently wrapped itself around the back of his neck like it was meant to comfort, but it only sent a shiver down his spine.

“Jack,” Anti sighed, sounding almost sorry for him. “I wish I could’ve shown ye’ something better. Wish I could’ve told ye’ she’d been faithful. Loyal. _Loving and kind_ , like ye’ once thought her t’ be. But while I may be a new breed of monster,I̖̥͡ ̝̦͔͈a̜̞i͟n̥̭̦̘’̗̤̪͜ṭ̣͙͔̘̪̬͜ ̹̺̣͝a̘̪̺̫̻̼ͅ ͚͓̰̤̙̻̦͟l̜̫͙ị̺a͡r̖͖̠̗.͍̱ Your bonnie lass ran away.”

Nails dug into the flesh of Jack’s neck.

“She doesn’t love you,” Anti hissed, forgoing the false pity in exchange of malice. “Ye’ve ruined her. She’ll never love you again. You’re alone, Jack. You’re all alone in this big, scary world, with no one who’ll care about ye’. _Signe doesn’t love you._ ”

The pieces slid together— why these memories were so important. They were methodically chosen, handpicked to tear Jack down, piece by piece. Watching Felix suffer and die, listening to PJ curse him with hatred, watching Signe turn her back. It was all meant to leave Jack weak. Unwilling to fight. They were meant to defeat him. 

“Ş̮̝̲͙̱h̖͇̯͉ȩ͈ ͍ͅd̥̠̰͕o̤̗̼̜ͅe͞ș̮n̴’͇̤t̩͔ ̵̘̤l͚̮̫͚̲ͅo̡̝̱v̛e̹̟͖̤̥ ͏͔̯̞̖̻y͎̹͇o̱͙ṵ̗,” Anti repeated.

Anti wasn’t nearly as smart as Jack had given him credit for.

Jack kept his head high and readied his grip on his blade. He straightened his shoulders, planned his next move, how he would win. He smiled and said, “Felix does.”

He swung the sword in a long arch, moving quickly enough to catch Anti off guard. The tip of the blade sliced through the front of Anti’s torso, cutting cloth and skin. But the pain of the cut was nothing compared to the rage that flared in Anti’s black eyes. “I killed your precious sinner!” Anti roared, holding his hand beneath his stomach, letting the blood catch in his palm. “ _That disgusting abomination!_ A thing like him can barely feel love as it is!”

Jack stared Anti down, holding his sword steady in the air, pointing at Anti. “I,” he began slowly, letting Anti take in every word, letting him taste every single syllable as a promise. “Am going. To kill you.”

Anti smiled slowly, then spread his arms out. “ _Come and get me, then_.”

Jack lunged, bringing the sword down, intending on breaking Anti’s collar bone. The sword connected with something hard, though, and the weapon bounced off of a wall of rock that extended from the ground like a shield. Jack took a step back, letting himself understand what this meant as his arm seized painfully from the impact.

“You think it’d be as easy as you swinging your fucking letter opener around and cutting me up like it’s the Crusades all over?” Anti laughed. “I’ve been in your head longer than ye’ve realized, Jack! I know all the ups and downs, the twists and turns. I know how to put you to sleep and shove you into memories. I’ve made this world my own— Ḭ͎’̰͎̪̹̺̼͡v͏̭̺̯͕e̻̘ ̖̪͚̳̟̳m͙̻̮̭̬̺à̻̫̮̭d͜e̫̱͇̞̱̺ ̱͖̣͍̤͕ͅy͏͉o̪͇u͏͖̙̻̩͉̞r̘̲͓̰͡ ͏̫̯͈͚̫̜̠f̥̳̖u̘c̛̳̩k͙i͙̘̬̣n̬̟͔̥̘͎g̪ͅ ̶̜b̩̦͔̞͔͙̩r̷a͍̰in̶̗̫̝̳̘͈͖ ̩̪̫̝m̛y̨͕̜̥ ̢̭̟̪̱̫͇ơ̼̯̪w̻n̵̳̗. _I know you better than yourself, right down to the dark little corners of your thoughts_.” Anti leered. The ground rumbled as he raised his arms slowly, and the floor lifted with him. Rock and stone jutted from the ground, creating pillars and walls and places for Anti to hide. The bastard’s laughter reverberated across through the stone, making it hard for Jack to pinpoint where he actually was. Jack scowled.

“Oh fuck you,” he said, moving to the side just in time to roll out of the way of a dark blur, then raise the sword up to block the blade of another. Anti grinned at him from over a sword of his own, dark and rusted at the edges. 

“You think you’re the only one with the cheats? _I wrote the fucking code_.”

“You talk too much,” Jack snapped, throwing his sword out and pushing Anti away. Rubble came up between them, a dirty trick to keep them apart. “And you’re a fuckin’ coward!” Jack shouted into the ceiling, letting his voice reverberate. 

Anti came from behind, the furthest thing from quiet. Jack spun on his heel to block the clumsy blow. “For all your fuckin’ talk,” Jack growled. “Ye’ve spent this entire time just waiting for me to catch up, while I’ve been learning how to actually fucking use this thing!” He swung the blade in a deadly circle, connecting with the bone of Anti’s hip after ducking down, letting the movement cut into the flesh and break the bone. Anti went down with a cry, but before Jack could bring the sword down on his head, rubble separate them again, pushing up between them with enough force to send Jack flying back. 

He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs and the sword clattering to the floor beside him. Jack looked up in time to catch another shadow of darkness descending before rolling away across the ground. Anti landed hard where Jack’s chest had once been, the floor caving beneath his feet like a meteor hitting the earth. He was still bleeding, though. Jack looked at the wound he’d left with satisfaction, even as Anti reached out and took him by the neck. 

He lifted Jack into the air with just one arm, squeezing Jack’s throat shut with little exertion. Jack gasped for breath uselessly, kicking in the air. “ _You can’t fucking beat me_ ,” Anti snarled. “I’m the only thing standing between you and six feet of empty promises. Why couldn’t ye’ just take the sacrifice? Why couldn’t ye’ take what you were given? I’d at least given you a head start! He fucking died for you, the piece of shit, and what do you do? W̠̬͇̲͘a̢͍̘̠̼s̱t̗̙e̷̠̮̱ ̳͓̹̭͖̫̹i̷̟̩t̲͍ ̪̦̱͔̹͇̕a͉̬̦̹ĺ̝̲̖l͚!҉”

Jack let go of Anti’s arm to lash out, digging his nails into Anti’s left eye. The wet sensation of tearing into that messy orb was familiar. Anti howled and dropped Jack to the floor, shielding his face. 

Jack scrambled across the ground and picked up his sword, swinging it wide and sliding across Anti’s back. The scream Anti let out shook the foundation and walls. Jack lost his balance, teetering onto his side. Anti writhed where he stood, clutching at his back and eye, screaming in a voice that had layers to it like Dormin’s. The light began to fade out of the windows, like an eclipse was overtaking everything. 

Anti whipped around to face Jack. The blood poured from his eye, the inky blackness overtaking everything. His face was twisted in an inhuman expression. Jack almost thought his teeth had sharpened. 

“I̵͇̜͙̻̻’̛̣̖̭l҉͓͉l̷̹ ̧̣è̞̭̳͙͉a̖̩̬̟̱̻̰ţ̝ ̯̮̗y̬͙ͅo͍̖u̶͕̟̘͍ ͖͈͞a̳l̯͖̹ͅi̪̣v͎e͖͍̤̖̱̰͖!̨͍̜̗̞̲” Anti roared. 

Jack quickly stood, sword in front. “Fucking try it!” It wasn’t like he had anything to lose. 

Anti charged, forgoing all reason in the face of rage. Jack feinted to the side, letting Anti miss him, going for cover. He crouched low to the ground behind a wall of rubble and shut his eyes, focusing on all of the echoing sounds. He held his breath. He placed a hand on the ground. 

There. To the left. Jack got up and ran from the noise as Anti screamed, reckless and insane. The conversation was gone, the natural banter, the goading. Jack had to be smart from here on out. His throbbing neck was a reminder that he couldn’t let Anti get the upper hand. 

“You called me a coward!” Anti shouted into the ruined throne room. “Called me a coward when all ye’ve done is run! Ye’ve ruined it all, Jack! Ruined your friends, ruined your lover! _You’ve ruined their lives down to the skeleton!_ ”

To the right.

Jack darted away, taking  cover behind another tower of rock. Anti roared in frustration. “Even if you beat me here, you’ll have nothing! Y͍͎͔͕̠̠͝ǫ͓͕̰̤̯̫̙ṷ̶̮̞’̢̟̜̝̜͇̪̤l̞̖l̵͓͓̮̫̝͕̤ ͇̮̳̗̺h͖͉̘͞a͓̝̠͕͚͓̹ve̯ ̛̣̣̪̤̤̮̩ǹ̯o̸͕͍ ̜͡o͈n͝e̢͉̬̤̫̟! A dead friend, an absent girl, and a boy that’ll spread your name like it’s poison! _You’re as good as dead, Jack!_ Just let me finish the fucking job!”

The right again. 

Jack ran away and reached the throne. He slid to the ground behind the throne itself, breathing calmly, listening intently. Anti could only come from one direction now. There was no sound of a weapon. 

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” Anti chanted, his shouting hedged with unhinged laughter. “You’re fucking nothing! _You’re gonna go back to nothing!_ You’ll never be more than nothing! And when I’m done with you, nothing will ever erase the memory of that fucker’s blood on your skin, and her neck in your hands!”

Left.

Jack waited.

“And when I’m done with you,” Anti growled, horrifyingly nearer. Jack could feel the air getting colder with the closer Anti got. His hands started to shake against his own will. “And when I’m done with you, I’ll take every last bit of you out of your filthy little body and make the whole fucking world mine. And no one— _no one_ — will know the fucking difference until it’s _too fucking late_.”

Left, left, left.

Jack shut his eyes. He could hear the smile in Anti’s voice. He forced himself to breathe. 

“And do ye’ wanna know the best part?” Anti asked. “In the end, everyone will truly believe that you killed Felix. _And it will be the only thing you’ve ever done that people will ever celebrate_.”

The left.

Jack swung around, driving the sword through Anti’s chest. The rage in Anti’s eyes quickly died into shock as he chest cavity collapsed and heart struggled to beat through having been impaled. 

“W̻͚͙̙̝͕h̸a̭̗̬̥͝t̘…̻”

Jack smirked and twisted the blade, opening the wound wider, ruining Anti’s body. Anti slumped and Jack pulled the blade out, letting Anti drop gracelessly to the floor. The fucker stared up at him with something like betrayal. 

“H͏̝̦̪ow̡̥͚ ̡̺̬̺͉̗c̡̪͉̲o̵̗ͅͅu͉̲̝̙͈͞l̗̳ḑ ̮̝̯̞̠̺͡y̙͚̜͎̙̺ͅo̹̝ù̝͍͚̗…҉̰͕̠ͅ”

Jack scowled down at the dying son of a bitch. “I told you I’d kill you,” he said. “I fucking said I would. You think you can just take control of my head? My body? Make me hurt the people I care about the most? Make me hurt Felix?”

He swung a leg over, straddling Anti, crouching low and settling on his stomach. The gaping chest wound was bleeding profusely with every weak, final beat of Anti’s heart. “You actually fucking thought you could kill me,” he said. “After fucking everything. After I created ye’, molded you, made you into what ye’ are. You thought I wouldn’t hunt you down for what you’ve done.”

Jack shook his head, leaning over Anti, looking into his ugly black eyes. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He sunk his fingers back into Anti’s eye, tearing into the sinew. Anti gurgled on his blood weakly beneath Jack. He couldn’t even fight back anymore. As Jack tore the eye from the socket, he took even more satisfaction in the feeling of the monster dying beneath him. Jack strung the eye around his neck, letting Anti watch him, letting him see how Jack had bested him. Then Jack stood above Anti, looking down at him with cruel disinterest, resting the sword down his back.

“I hope you know,” Jack said, his final words to the thing he’d created. “All of this? All of it is to bring him back. And once Felix is alive and whole again, I’m gonna spend every fucking minute making him know that he’s worth more than the fucking lies you fed him.” He kicked Anti in the side. Anti barely made a noise— he was seconds from death. “Good riddance, you fuck. I hope no one remembers you.”

As Anti died, the rubble around crumbled, leaving the throne room in shambles. Jack left the ruined temple with a haze over his thoughts. Agro waited for him outside, grazing peacefully. When Jack came closer, she lifted her head and regarded him with deep, dark eyes. She knew what he’d done, what he’d accomplished. She showed him her back. Jack climbed on and she headed back for the forbidden temple.

It started to snow, beautiful and gentle, but foreboding. The cold pervaded through everything, rendering Jack’s clothes useless. The clouds overhead were heavy and dark. Time had run out. Jack kicked into Agro’s side, spurring her forward. He needed to reach Felix.

Agro stopped at the stairs that led up to the alter room. She refused to go any further, so Jack slid off. He took her by the cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. “This is goodbye,” he said. “For real, now. Thank you, Agro. Never could have gotten around and through all of this shit without ye’.” He smiled and she pressed back into his touch. “I’ll never forget you. Especially since you’re basically my canonical spirit animal.”

Agro tossed her head like she was laughing at him, before pulling away and heading to the grass to graze again, brushing aside the snow with her nose. Jack shivered and turned to bound up the stairs. 

Felix was just as he’d left him, lifeless on the floor. The weather was somehow phasing through the ceiling, dusting Felix with a fine layer of snow. The alter Felix was against had a metallic reflection to it, only visible in your peripherals. Jack rushed forward, wanting to brush the snow away. He hated that none of it melted from Felix’s frozen skin. 

_YOU ARE WHAT IS LEFT— ONLY YOU DECIDE WHAT HE IS WORTH. RETURN HIM. RUN HIM THROUGH._

Jack blanched at the words. “What?” The sword hums angrily against his back.

_run him through run him through run him through run him through run—_

“I can’t do that,” Jack instantly denied, shaking his head, stepping away from Felix even though he wanted nothing more than to be at his side. “I can’t just— run him through with _what_? The sword? How do I—“

_the eyes the eyes the eyes_

_THE EYES COLLECTED ARE VISIONS CONFRONTED. RUN HIM THROUGH._

“I can’t fucking stab Felix!” he cried out to the ceiling, pulling out the sword to look at it like he wanted to shout at it too. “He’s been through so much. I’ve been through so much! I can’t!”

_YOU ARE WHAT IS LEFT— ONLY YOU DECIDE WHAT HE IS WORTH. RETURN HIM. RUN HIM THROUGH._

_ONLY YOU DECIDE WHAT HE IS WORTH. RUN HIM THROUGH._

_RUN HIM THROUGH._

Jack shuddered, his entire body protesting everything about this. He hated it, but Dormin had never steered him wrong, and the sword had never lied. They both wanted Jack to reach the end he sought. “The eyes,” he said to himself. He brought the necklace from around his deck, not even a little bothered by the eyes that stared back at him. Anti’s fifth eye, in particular, was bleeding back into green. The sword offered no help in what Jack should do. He looked at the blade, at the small dip the edges had at the end. He had no other idea, so Jack wrapped the necklace with the gouged eyes around the blade, tying it tightly. 

“Is this what you want?” he asked the blade, hating the way the eyes stared at him. They looked angry with him, like they wanted him to feel guilty for what he’d done. Fuck them. They’d fucking done this to themselves. “What do I do now?”

_RUN HIM THROUGH._

_RUN HIM THROUGH._

_RUN HIM THROUGH._

Jack trembled again. He went down on his knees in front of Felix’s form. He knew that if Felix bled when he did this, he’d probably throw up. “Felix,” he said, letting the name come out soft and revenant. “I never wanted you t’ suffer, you know that. I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I need to have you back.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “I’m selfish, Fe’, don’t ye’ know? I ain’t got much worth fighting for out there without you.” He flexed his grip on the sword, then looked to the dried blood on Felix’s stomach. “I’ll make it quick,” he told Felix, wrapping a hand around the back of Felix’s cold neck and putting their heads together. “I won’t let it hurt anymore than it needs to.”

He held his breath, pressing the tip of blade to Felix’s body. “Just trust me,” he told Felix’s corpse. “Trust me.” Then he drove the blade in deep and—

. . .

— The kitchen knife was jettisoned from Felix’s body, clattering across the concrete loudly in the cold, quiet night. The snow fell gently above and they were surrounded by a good inch of it, all of the cars and buildings blanketed in the white. Jack looked wide eyed to where Felix was slumped against the car. There was still blood. 

Panic overwhelmed Jack for a few horrible seconds before he was able to lift up Felix’s shirt and see that, where he’d once had a stab wound, there was only raised, scarred, yet healed skin. Then Jack looked up at Felix and saw that his face had changed. His lips were parted. 

“Holy shit,” Jack said. He sat back on the sidewalk and ran his hands through his hair. He’d done it. He’d actually fucking done it. “Holy fucking shit.”

In a rush, Jack got to his feet and ran back into his house. Everything was still broken and in disarray, but where Anti’s body had once been was nothing. Not even a bloodstain underneath. Jack pressed his palm into his temple, searching for the feeling of Anti, lingering dark in his thoughts. But he couldn’t find anything. Was he really gone?

Jack stumbled back outside, back to Felix. The man hadn’t moved, so Jack pressed his hand over Felix’s lips and felt him breathe. Relief washed through him once he felt warmth. Jack dropped onto the ground beside Felix and tried not to cry out of sheer joy. Jack reached down and laced his fingers with Felix, smiling shakily at him.  
“Felix,” he beckoned softly. “Wake up.”

The snow continued to fall, but it was finally melting when it touched Felix’s skin. His lashes fluttered with the weight of the snow and Jack’s chest twisted almost painfully. “Ye’ need t’ wake up,” he told Felix in a whisper. “When you wake up, I’m getting you the hell away from here. All of it. I’m taking you somewhere safe. I’m going to repay you for everything ye’ve done for me. And I’m going to make sure that ye’ learn to hate every single fucking word that bastard fed ye’.” Jack reached up and brushed Felix’s jaw with his thumb, wanting to touch, wanting to feel the warmth of life from him. “Wake up, Felix. Come back to me.”

Felix’s eyes opened slowly, revealing those icy blue eyes back to a world that had sorely missed the color. When their eyes met, Jack’s breath caught. As recognition and confusion flickered through Felix’s face, Jack leaned in and pressed their lips together, giving himself and Felix what they both needed most after the hell they’d survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case it was muddled, the life that anti took from felix was stored within those five different eyes within the sword and jack returned it all to felix by running him through


End file.
